I’ve been battling lately with an unsteadiness and anxiety after losing the rhythm I had with daily exercise. Part of it that I got sick and was weak for a couple of weeks, some is not wanting to spend tons of money and half the day going to yoga/spin/hooping or whatever classes, and part is that I am taking time to focus on changing my life.
I weigh 185 and a half pounds this morning, and I still have my Kung-Fu panda belly, two tiers of blubbery-bloaty fat that I’ve had since my life became a stress nightmare in 98″. Po and I have a lot in common, in that I know that fat is about protection and comfort. While I have spent a great deal of time and money working on it, I know it’s not going to leave until I find a way to meet the needs of some deeply wounded instinct that has been living in there.
Last night I bellydanced with my teacher, which I haven’t done for months. Since my belly hangs down and protrudes out in front of me like a rolling hill, I expected to be grossed out by how I look.
When we lined up in front of the mirrors to do bellyrolls, there was a pleasant surprise. Hooping has made my midriff, the area right under my ribs, more fluid, stronger, and taken away some fat pockets. We could see this change because my upper abs rippled and I was doing the rools, despite the obvious fat tires hanging below it.
The other good surprise lately is that my cuban bata teacher has permitted me to play the Iya, Itotele, and okonkulo in the same class. Perseverance pays. I’m just beginning to learn how to enjoy it, to allow myself to feel something positive when the desired impossible happens and is no longer impossible.