Forgive me. My preoccupation with all things potty has prevented me from posting on more important issues, like how fiercely I'm shaking my ass and my search for a babydoll nightie for burlesque class.
Lil E is holding out. No, literally. Holding out. He's mastered the fine art of not going to the bathroom at all until we put him in a Pull Up for naps and night time. We can occasionally convince him to sit on the potty but this boy's iron will is working wonders over his bladder. Can you believe this? I actually get excited when he has an accident. Excited. And not just the fake-cheering over a tiny tinkle that earns an M & M. Oh la la.
So on to the good stuff... I am loving the burlesque class. Although I still get a little nervous and am still very aware of all the skinny minnies without mama bellies in the class, I am embracing it more every single week. And according to last week's revelation, that means I am embracing myself a bit more too. And darlings, that can only be good for women who give their bodies over to human growing, birthing, breastfeeding and kid carrying.
Last week, we added nighties to our dance routine. That's right, loves, props. Sexy props.
I brought a sweet little nightie that I got for my wedding. I thought it would be fine until I saw the babydolls that other women were pulling on over their exercise clothing. They were all sheer and flouncy and feathery and rrrrrrowl. Of course, my nighty worked just fine but when you are strutting your stuff, the visual is very important. I felt plain. I want pizazz.
I also want dance heels. All of these props certainly aren't necessary but they light a little fire that makes the pain of jiggling my hips for an hour feel really good. I am also practicing a little bit (if only in the shower), feeling more confident (not only that I can do the moves but can remember them and can do them with some va-va-voom)and really wanting to see how I look (yes, in the big studio mirror) and feel when I give myself over completely -- shoes, gloves, feathers, fishnets, flounce and all.
So far, I haven't found a nighty that is more of who I want to be in this class. But I will. Before next week, when we do a full review of all the components of the routine, from the improv at the intro to the nightie flung to the floor.
The started the nighty flinging this week and Michelle, my teacher, told us not to worry if it gets stuck as we hike it up or if we're having other removal troubles.
"Whatever you do," she said, "don't stand still. Move your ass! Circle it! Scoop it! Shake it around!"
And then in some of the best advice I think I've heard ever, she said, "Your booty's mesmerizing! When your ass is shaking, nothing else matters."
And oh, how it felt invigorating -- after a bit of tease on the left and tease on the right -- to shake my own money-maker, slide my nightie up over my head and finally, with drama, twirl and toss. It felt phenomenal.
Can you believe this is exercise? It is challenging in many ways and as I head home, I feel lit up inside for just trying it all. It is fabulous, fabulous fitness. Even with a plain old nightie and butterflies in my stomach. Imagine how empowering it will be once I'm really dolled up.