dancer

OK..this space is first and foremost my journal. My place to log my thoughts, my fears, my fantasies and my activities. I will pretend then that no-one is reading. I will pretend that no one who knows my inner workings is will look at my shyness at logging the embarrassment of my latest activity

I began a class in burlesque dancing this weekend. While yoga has given me balance and strength, grace has been somewhat slow in finding it's way to my grasp.

We started with the chair routine. Nothing lie leaping in at the deep end. Now I have been to many a burlesque show and seen the chair routine.  I was going for something somewhat like this (eyes right).

















I bumped and ground my hips and arse, leaped and spread with the best of them. I lay across my chair as instructed with perfect balance. In my minds eye I looked just like this (eyes left and below).

In reality, under the harsh cold fluorescent light of the early evening, mine looked nothing like those. In the end I couldn't help thinking this body is just not built for the chair dance (though I did enjoy thrusting my arse out behind me as I bent and then stood tall, grinding my hips atop the chair).

My smokin' split was somewhat damp. My hip bump was a little stiff. My lay back, tracing my ankle to  my fingertips did wonders for the vertebra cracking one by one as I unrolled to the floor (eyes left though this picture is a little more glamorous than my experience).

Before I even reached home, I was bruised. My inner thighs bruised from leaping straddled from a high on top the chair to the floor. I am not tall and much pain was inflicted on my inside thighs as I connected with the chair.

Hmmm is this what finding my Dom might be like? Markings in my most tender flesh. Until such a day as I find my Dom, I shall employ the chair to inflict such punishments!

Next week..class two, the damce of the floor feathers...