Sunday, September 21, 2014


I took up belly dancing about three years ago. It wasn't something I sought specifically... rather, there was a class on Saturday afternoons in my gym, and I thought - why not? It looked interesting and potentially effective in ridding me of a flabby belly, and the instructor was (still is) great-looking. 

Dancing was never my thing - not when I was young, nor in my teens not even the twenties. Once, in university, the singing group my roomee, Mee Mee, and I were in were set to perform two songs for a charity event. In the (relatively) last minute, they decided to throw in a dance as well. After the first rehearsal (in which we learned the steps for the first time), Mee Mee and I "showcased" our moves to Bee Ree in our hostel room. Bee Ree rolled onto her bed and laughed like a hyena - that's how much we can't dance. This belly dance class, however, was different. It wasn't only that I could do it, but I didn't make people fall over laughing doing it.

It was really great to find something I enjoy doing and have it do wonder to my fitness at the same time. And then... the moment I realized how great the once-a-week belly dancing classes were, I started worrying about the day when I don't have them anymore. My instructor was no longer a young man - one day, he would decide he has had enough and would retire. What will happen to my abs then? What will I do to maintain my fitness? How will I fill the gap that was a full hour of cardio and body-toning workout every Saturday?

Well, that day has come. The classes ceased two months ago. 

What do I feel, you ask? Frankly, nothing. The reason is that I had actually stopped going for classes about 6 or 8 months ago. It started with an unexplained pain in one knee, and then a pain in the other knee. I simply couldn't dance anymore. I had, without consciously realizing it, long replaced belly dancing with Swiss ball exercises for core training. Do I miss dancing? Yes, but not for the reasons I initially thought I would.

This, Reader, is what I always do. I over-think everything and I worry about future changes that might happen before they even happen, if they do at all. I worry about how the changes might affect me negatively and I am always in fear of losing something good that is currently a part of my life. I know the saying that nothing is permanent, that change is the only constant... but, knowing (and even accepting) it is not the same as being OK with it. 

In hindsight, all that worrying was simply as waste of time. I affected a change before circumstances did. I wish I can say this would be the last time I do it, but... well, one can try. And hope.

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