OK. Here’s what I’m talking about when it comes to the pressures women face about body image. I’m at dinner last night with my cousin (barely 105 soaking wet…love ya, babe!) at a Moroccan Restaurant, Taste of Morocco-downtown Silver Spring to be VERY exact! There’s a belly dancer there for entertainment and she was a lot of fun. (Side note: I am crazy about dance in all its forms and I am amazed at the body and how beautiful dance is, no matter the culture. And there’s so much overlap in steps among the styles.) Anyway, I digress.
My cous’ is all into belly dancing. She takes classes, yahdah, yahdah. I’m not diminishing her classes, but I don’t want that fact to add ANY validity to what comes next. After dinner we talked to our waiter about the dancer. He offers information about how to contact her for classes and how she could be a valuable resource to know how to do this professionally. (I should add that during her performance she dragged my cousin and me out onto the floor to dance with her. Minor detail.) Anyway as he’s explaining the merits of the profession, he gradually loses all eye contact with me. He glances at me a few times during the conversation to be polite, but it was clear that he had turned his focus to my cousin. When he was done with his pitch, he punctuated the whole ordeal with, “If you want a career in belly dancing, they make a lot of money, (turns back to Alexis and points right index finger square at the face of cousin) especially YOU,” the jerk says, “you should think about it.”
Now, that’s just WRONG! I could say more, but I’ll leave it at that. For now.