Sunday, March 6, 2011

Spectacular Gator Saturday

Saturday morning I woke early, 6:30 am to be exact and proceeded to doze on and off until it was time to bolt from bed and perform 20 minutes of preparations in less than the actual five minutes I had allowed, to make it to my exercise boot camp on time.

I was a few minutes late so I eagerly performed 25 atomic push-ups (think nervous little feet balanced on a big ball and jiggly arms straining as you roll your knees in and out, with an F Bomb and a push up in-between) for my tardiness.  That'll teach me.

After class I drove downtown to get fitted for some sa-weet ass sneakers at Hill Country Running in hopes that they might fix my gimpy ankle that is currently being held together with gobs of kinesio-tape.  (Think new-age duct tape.)  Driving straight there would have been much too simple and timely, so instead I unwittingly drove right smack into the middle of a 5K run and 8 billion road closures.  I realized I had chosen a crap course of direction when they fired a cannon over my car and I nearly shat myself.

8 million squats, 3 million lunges and spending poop loads of dough on new sneakers makes a girl hungry, so I ambled over to Lift Cafe and had a lovely brunch date with myself in gale force winds and some much needed glorious sunshine.

Right after I took this picture my tacos and coffee were simultaneously caught in a gust of cold wind and smashed to the side walk.  Just kidding.  I scarfed my tacos down supa-fast to avoid that heart wrenching scenario and finished my lovely skinny blackberry latte in the comfort of the warm indoors, lounging on a fabulous sofa.

While lounging on said wondrous sofa I pondered my options for the rest of my day:

1.  Shop for some new clothes.  Good news!  None of my clothes fit because I'm getting super fit.  Bad news...  NONE of my clothes fit so until saggy drawers and shapeless tops are back in-fashion, I sort of look like a homeless person but smell a LOT better.

2.  Shop for JS' upcoming 35th birthday present.  He is asking for the new iPad, so technically #2 on my list should read:  Rob bank THEN buy JS' present.

3.  Attend a Belly Dancing Workshop.

Can you guess what I chose?  Let me give you some hints.  I totally DETEST shopping for clothes and I have yet to develop the skill set to successfully pull off a heist. 

Yep.  Off to belly dancing I bravely went.  Blame it on the caffeine and all that secret syrup.      

After speaking with the instructor (I mean really...  What's a girl supposed to WEAR to a belly dancing class?) I dressed in black spandex capris and a black fitted top so as better to observe my core.  A belt or scarf for the waist was also suggested to better observe what one's hips are doing.  Lucky for me I already stole from my mother own a spectacular rhinestone and silver studded, black bedazzled belt to finish my ensemble. 

Our class consisted of one yoga princess, one terribly uncoordinated Gator wearing a bitchin' belt, one Vampire, (she looked just like Rachelle Lefevre, aka Vampire Victoria from the Twilight series) one Mom and our super famous instructor April Rose.  April performs all over the world as a member of the Bellydance Superstars.  She is the epitome of beauty and grace as well as a wonderful instructor (and my newest idol crush).

Photos Courteesy of 

Seeing as I was terribly over-caffeinated and I'm always kind of a bundle of super spastic nerves anyway, I simply couldn't refrain from busting out my jazz hands right in the middle of our really sexy choreographed dance.  The group giggled and I told April she could thank me the next time she was on stage in Spain and had the urge to bust out her own Mary Katherine Gallagher moves.  That my friends, will be my own personal contirbution to the Bellydance Superstars and multi-cultural art.

When we completed our workshop I volunteered to video tape the rest of our group dancing so that my spasticity was not forever immortalized on film.  What?  You think I wussed out, don't you?  Whatevs.  I have my future political career to think of.  Ha!  AND let's take a minute or twelve to say thanks to the Sweet Baby Jesus there were no iPhone cameras or Facebook when I was so much younger and SO MUCH dumber.  Amen.  

Halfway through our two hour workshop I discovered a new meaning for muscle discovery.  My ribs burned, my scapulas kind of wanted to fall off and my bare feet were getting a wee bit raw.  I had to quit shaking my groove thing a couple of times to make sure that the God awful sensations coming from the bottom of my tootsies were not in fact impaled shards of glass...  Who knew tiny bits of glitter left behind from someones dance costume could be so pokey?  I also discovered that my legs look sort of horrific in my most favorite black workout capris and I have since decided I should never wear them out of the house again.  Sad day.

That being said, I had an incredible time and I totally impressed myself with the smidgen of coordination that I actually do possess.  I was pleased that I pushed myself out of my comfort zone and allowed myself to be silly, feminine and sexy.    I think I may try to find more classes or a good DVD so I can continue my dancing.  Annnnnnnnnnnd, according to JS I could still use a little more tutorial...  Later that same night I was cooking dinner in the kitchen (gasp!) while he read his paper in the living room, when he said, "Ummm, honey...  I can't see what your hips are doing from here...  But judging by the look on your face, I'm totally intimidated."



  1. Love it! I totally volunteer myself to make an ass of myself and take a class with you when I get back. But I have to warn that you'll probably be rendered speechless by my official, legit, real-deal belly-dancing skirt. I'm just sayin.