Despite my best intentions, I neither spent my European sojourn seeking out esoteric dance teachers nor partying all night in techno-throbbing clubs. If anything, I got less exercise than usual. Other than what some of you dirty-minded types might imagine went on, I didn't get anything like the workout my usual life provides. Berlin has excellent public transit, so I didn't walk that much. I didn't have to cater, so no lifting 35-pound crates or being on my feet and in constant motion for twelve hours at a pop. Didn't model, so not much stretching or balancing. Finally, only one dance class in five weeks and no troupe rehearsals.
And then there is German food in general and a host obsessed--obsessed--with Hollandaise sauce in particular.
I never gain weight when I travel. Never. Or at least, not before this.
Not that I care about my weight, per se. If anything, I'm delighted by the contrast between how much I appear to weigh, and how much I actually do. I am childishly proud of my density. But I keep a close eye on how far past my bustline my stomach extends, and that first number's not real high, if you follow.
Which would be why I have, ah, overdone it in the past couple of days. Last night I went to the dojo and did my first class in nearly three years. Mostly because my sensei was finally officially passing the mantle of Chief Instructor on to Lab Rat, and I felt it behooved me to be there for such a solemn occasion, especially since I figured there'd be beer and snacks afterwards. But also because I've sort of missed aikido, and felt like getting a little beaten up might be a good thing.
I'd forgotten, though. There are actually some muscle groups that belly dance doesn't get at, and aikido does. Belly dance also don't leave bruises. So by the time I left the dojo, I was aware that I'd probably be sore today.
So why, I'm asking myself now, did I think it was a good idea to take both the beginning hip-hop class and then the first belly dance class this morning? Don't get me wrong, I was really happy at the time. There was some, well, emotional frustration in Berlin that I probably would have handled better if I'd forced myself to go find more dance classes; somehow I never seem to remember that being in motion is the best thing I can do for my head. And I did feel quite fine this morning, even through the burning. Jill was on more of an abs kick than usual during the warm-up, and I'd already been through a pretty serious set of crunches with Micaya, and of course all the rolling the night before...
I can't cough now. Does that give you an idea? I just got home from a play that had some funny moments, but laughing seemed unwise. I am wearing the flaming girdle. When I breathe deeply I feel it in my shoulderblades.
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