Making a Change

THE change, actually, and it's making me, not me making it. You know the one ~ remember that year your mom rampaged through the house ripping off her clothes like some crazed Gypsy Rose Lee. Night sweats were the beginning for me. I get so soaking wet that I'm considering wearing pajamas made from Bounty, "the quicker picker upper." I've always had the mood swings and I live alone so they don't really get documented nor does anyone bare the brunt (except maybe Buddy the cat). In fact, the moodiness is actually lessening in intensity, for which I am quite grateful. What bothers me the most is the weight gain. Even my armpits have a roll now. I used to be so proud of my flat, nearly inverted stomach area; now I can claim a muffin top, you know, that sweet rolling cap that flows over the stressed waist band of your too tight jeans.

I took my first NIA class this week. It is a combination of dance, martial arts and aerobics. For those reading this who don't know me, a bit of background: I was a professional modern dancer for 15 years, studied at one of the best college dance programs in the nation, performed in the Kennedy Center in Washington DC, even acquired an eating disorder in order to maintain the svelte tool of my trade. I worked out 6-8 hours a day six days a week with dance classes, rehearsals, running 8 miles, pumping iron, swimming, yoga, you name it. I retired ten years ago and have altered my work out to watching aerobic videos, sitting on the couch, eating a bag of chips. So a NIA class, I thought would be a good transition back into my body. I remembered the moves and in my head I found myself tracking the list of corrections: release the spine but hold the shoulders down, lift up through the pyrimadalis muscle and the rectus abdominus to hold center, lengthen the sartoris muscle and remember that thumb that keeps sticking out when I have unnecessary tension in the hands, hips aligned, lower back lengthened, foot arched without curling the toes, face muscles (zygomaticus) pulled back for an open, easeful look on my face and follow the line of energy with my eyes and my soul.

Well, I remembered the list, but my body couldn't track it and I tripped, I tripped over my own feet with a movement I used to do every day for 15 years. Can I blame it on the change?