I have breasts

Posted on | December 19, 2006 | 6 Comments

I am still plagued with cramps and a bad attitude about work. The cure? Coffee and NPR. Then there will be podcasts and a little Love and Rockets and later a trip to Target to return those nifty pants I bought last night. And I lost the receipt. I look forward to arguing with them about that.

Rebecca, Anne and I muscled (or jiggled in my case) though two belly dancing classes last night. My abs feel okay, and it’s not my body that bothers me, but my lack of grace. I’m an ox. We worked on spins and she equated the step to turn to a military “about face.” I know that move. I do. I tried, but it’s hard on a naked heel on a carpeted floor. Rug burn, anyone? And I turned the wrong way a few times, facing the class instead of moving with it. I can’t remember the names of the moves. My hips long to go one way when she move another. My chest dislikes chest rolls – it’s the bouncing. Breasts don’t like to be bounced when they are aching from hormones. I’ve become mostly comfortable with my heavy hips and thick thighs, but sometimes my boobs just piss me off. They are going south, but one cannot deny gravity and age. My solution includes push-ups and a nice bra. No push-up bras. They are very uncomfortable.
Back to the dancing. I feel lost. But, there’s a light. Rebecca was kind enough to loan me some of her belly dancing videos. I think they will help my confidence with the movements. If nothing else, I will learn “dance posture” and figure out what the names for the movements are. Center, I have to return to center. I can her her voice in my head “Dance posture! Tail tucked, chest up, shoulders back, long neck!” I am sitting at my desk with my upper posture as she demanded.
My birthdaughter’s family sent us their annual Christmas card. I am amazed by the photograph. Her sister is going to be gorgeous, and you can see her deviousnesses in that wan smile and her sharp, green eyes. But my birthdaughter isn’t homely by any means. She’s tall (yes, I am still bitter) and her dark eyes remind me of my own. She’s also darker than I am, I think. Her caramel skin must come from her mexican genes because her birthfather was white. I think she gets her height from him. Heaven knows, she didn’t get it from me. It makes me very proud that she’s grown into such a lovely young woman, not in looks, but in personality. She turns 13 in January. Her birthday always triggers memories and emotions left dormant throughout the year. I love the kid, I really do. But this open adoption thing is new for everyone and I am still concerned with making a mistake, I shouldn’t worry about it so much, I know. But I do. I think that’s my job as her birthmother. I would love to show you a picture so you could get a comparison, but I’ll never post pictures of her here. That’s just too close and it’s not my intent to “out” her as adopted. So…yeah. Thought I would share that.

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