I took a belly dancing class with smonster about a year and a half ago. Smonster stuck with it (and looks terrific!) and I gave it up after 2/3rds of the class. I'm not coordinated. At all. And that, on top of not really getting the teacher's teaching style (which worked for others, just not for me), sort of killed it for me.
But I bought one of those sheer hip scarves with loads of sparkly things before I quit. Heck, pretty clothes with sparkly things was half the reason I started. OK, maybe just a quarter of the reason.
I may try it again. Maybe a different instructor would teach in a way I could connect with.
I wish I could tell you that it gets easier, but I'm afraid life is just like that.
Funny thing...my therapist said pretty much the same thing last night. Now I've just got to figure out how to get through the most difficult moments of this with urges of running, cutting, biting or, during the really bad moments, wanting to die.
I love belly dancing. Must find classes here.
BTW, since my last whine, I've sent in two more job applications w/ customized cover letters. One of the letters was perhaps the strangest things I've ever written.
Three more to go before meeting the day's goals.
I've already applied to all the easily found ones (i.e. advertised positions.) Now I'm scrounging around writing to various companies who don't have any specific jobs listed.
Plus, got signed on with a new temp agency this morning.
Anne, I hope something breaks for you on the job hunt front.
vw, much cope~ma to you on the difficult moments.
Bellydancing looks so damn cool. One of my friends did it for a while and wanted me to join her, and I pleaded poverty and waffled, and my punishment is that she's since quit and is now pimping (rather cheaper) kickboxing classes at me.
vw, please don't have a meltdown. Your therapist will be back on Monday and will call you back and it'll work out somehow. Please don't stress up your body and brain (or, if you feel you must, go watch a sappy movie and have a cathartic relaxing cry, but NO BREAKDOWN).
ION, I am now so fucking hungry I swear I could eat the head of the next person to walk into my office, and spend another couple of hours contentedly gnawing on the stump of their neck. Why must the strength of my hunger always be directly inversely proportionate to the amount of snack money I have?
Good luck, Anne.
{{vw}}
Have ordered DVD! One step closer to actually exercising...
more of a "Oh? Really? Whenwhenwhenwhen?" anticipatory sort of thing. Yes. Be moving to this side of the country. Sooner rather than later. Please?
What she said, even if you SUCK.
Why must the strength of my hunger always be directly inversely proportionate to the amount of snack money I have?
It's a primitive response. Though "snack money" is a relatively new concept, "got no food, no idea when I'm getting more," is a concept the body understands perfectly, and it's already pre-programmed with a "KILL AND EAT THE NEXT CREATURE YOU SEE OR WE'RE DOOOOMED!" response.
