You can also find Fantasy Arabesque on Facebook.

So if you like me at all, or know anything about hard work and self-discipline, please do not hesitate to post a comment on here or fire off an email to me pressuring me into working on my book. It’s at 5,000 words with about 95,000 words left for my goal, though it’s not about quantity but rather quality. Look right here for updates over the coming months.

Bright lights. Now it’s too dark. Don’t people have dimmers anymore?

It’s really hot. I think I might be suffering from heat exhaustion. Don’t forget to tuck your pelvis and lift your chest! I wonder if my face looks as red as it feels. These pictures are going to turn out horribly.

Such is the life of a performer, and such was my thought process last night for my first performance ever.

I have to tell you: I was absolutely terrified. But the ladies I performed for were very nice and very enthusiastic about the whole ordeal (except, of course, the guest of honor, who was at first embarrassed out of her wits at the prospect of a male belly dancer performing at her birthday party. Think of her saying, “I’m not dancing!” over and over again and you’ll get an accurate picture of the scene last night).

See, I live in a very conservative town, which means people I danced for were shocked that they managed to find a belly dancer at all, let alone a male one. And with the stigma which dictates that belly dancers are strippers, I was happy (and nervous) to get my first gig. I had no idea what it would be like – would people be throwing ones at me, trying to stuff them into my belt? Would I be judged? Would they have fun, or just be awkward?

Thankfully, none of the above happened, and my first audience was very happy to have me there and very inviting. They were familiar, somewhat, with dancing, and knew the art was tasteful and classy – and far from stripping.

The story of how I found the gig is an interesting tale, too. They were eating at a local restaurant, discussing the details of the party (in a very official tone, might I add). One of the servers overheard that they were looking for a male belly dancer, and recommended them to the manager, who knows my boyfriend from his occasional services, and gave them his phone number. So he got a call with a phone number and the next day, I was officially performing for a party of five.

The next day, here I am, exhausted with nerves shot, and having never felt so exhilarated in my life, I am looking for more work. I am meant to be a performer – I know this now. It’s like my drug. It’s more powerful than heroin, and less expensive, too. I am shopping on eBay for my next performance outfit and hoping the ladies hand out my business cards for me.

Feel free to advertise! I am truly ready!

I teach belly dance to a lovely group of women right now and I have found that many of them have issues with their bodies beyond feeling like fish out of water. They not only feel awkward learning new and extremely different movements, but they also feel like they are too fat to dance. I try my best to give them encouragement, by telling them things like, “A little jiggle is great for Egyptian shimmies” and it is! But I’m finding they do not respond so positively. So I am wondering if perhaps I should just insist they are not fat and let that be the end of it.

Are we living in a world where being above average size is so shameful that I have to work even harder at my job because these girls insist on coming to class in sweatshirts? I feel like a bad teacher because I have to work so hard in order to see their movements that I cannot focus on proper form. I’m just trying to see them moving at all.

I do not consider myself skinny. I work every day to get a flatter stomach, just like all the other people with weight issues. I have, unfortunately, had run-ins with disordered thinking and body dysmorphia in the past. I still have trouble looking in the mirror at times, when I have eaten too much or have not drank enough water, and am therefore bloated. But I feel comfortable and confident enough with my body to show my stomach while dancing, as many other belly dancers are capable of. So when I meet these beautiful people who cannot come to class without covering up thoroughly, I feel like I must be doing something wrong. Either that, or the world has judged them too much for them to feel confident and – dare I say it – sexy.

I am thankful for my confidence. If you know of any ways for me to instill it in other people, please, let me know.

Anyways, when I dance, I think. I think about how I am becoming better and how my body is starting to change in whichever parts I use most frequently (lately it has been my glutes). I think about what I am going to do after I dance and what I want to work on more next time I dance. I think about whether or not I really am getting any better, or if it is just the power of suggestion at work. I think about where I want to and will be in the future – five years seems to be the magic number for now.

And when I think about what I think about, I realize I feel better after having thought for so long about so much. I have planned not only my days, but three different potential careers (I am still in college so I have an excuse about not knowing what I’m going to do with my life).

I have realized recently that dancing is a form of therapy. Sure, there has long been evidence that being physically active improves mood (by regulating brain chemicals, releasing endorphins, etc.). But I’m not talking about just that. I’m talking about how we spend our free time while dancing. I am willing to hazard a guess that few people actually concentrate on dancing itself – that they instead think about other things so they will not feel as tired as quickly, or for another reason.

Do you consider dancing to be a form of therapy? Do you let your mind wander to a distant place while you are physically active, or do you actually focus on the task at hand? Feel free to prove me incorrect; I can take criticism.

Where are you from? How often do you dance?

I’m going to answer these questions and more, and I hope you all will, too.

To keep this from turning into a novel (like Jen Lancaster, my favorite subject is indeed myself), I’m even going to do it in bulleted list form:

• I am a tribal fusion, cabaret mixed belly dancer.
• I am originally from Houston, Texas, but grew up in Ruidoso, New Mexico.
• I dance nearly every day, because I love it more than anything else.
• On my free time, when I’m not dancing, I’m shopping or writing.
• I like shiny things.
• I accept donations in the form of shiny things.
• I have no idea what to do with my head when I perform. I always see the Zoe Jakes-y teased out pigtails and porcupine quills a la Rachel Brice, but I have no idea what somebody with short hair is to do. Turban?
• I am male.
• I am getting married on July 6th.
• July 6th will be my three-year anniversary with my fiance.
• I’m a Leo and a Horse, which makes me stubbornly loyal.
• I laugh in the face of danger – the nervous kind of laughter.

Anything else you’d like to know? Feel free to ask. I am an open-ish book.