I just looked up Iowa City belly dance classes. I went to an open house once and knew the studio name, roughly, so I wanted to see if they had anything I couldn't make an excuse about.
I can feel the stress and tears behind my eyes.
Just from looking. From the line on another studio's page, "Remember, it's supposed to be fun!"
Karina, who is on my list of Very Smart Friends, told me years ago that perhaps I should find something fun to do physically. Something I can't improve at, and thus can't fail to improve at. Something that helps me like my body, something that helps me move my body-- I'm adding to her advice here-- something that helps me... well, here we run into a problem because what I actually want is something easy and backgroundable that will help give me a foundation for something like everything else I've done and stopped in terms of physical activity.
I've been thinking about walking downtown lately. Load up my bag with library books, bundle two scarves around my head and neck, and turtle my way those couple miles. That's not a great difficulty. I did that when I lived at Casa Handler, sometimes daily.
I've been thinking about dance. I've been thinking about how I fail so comprehensively at it. I've been thinking about my workout clothes, kept at work because I decided that if the kiddos are working out, maybe I should too, but the last couple times I just haven't been willing. I've been thinking about aikido. I've been thinking about the boy's Viking reenactment group, which I'm not going to join because the leader is either an asshole or he does a pretty good impression of one but I'd like to not be completely dismissed as a possibility. I think about the rec centers I now know and the workout rooms that still intimidate me. I think of my excuses, which are mostly money. I think about cardio and the I Hate Cardio song. I think about my pulse creeping up month after month, my blood pressure doing the same, my weight.
There is an activity that will help me like my body. There is something that I can build on, something my body can do for me, an olive branch held out saying we can get along.
There is more to my physical self than hands and eyes.