Burlesque class inspires me to embrace my inner ooh-la-la

To be clear, I didn’t do it for the ooh-la-la. 

I won’t apologize for the fact I liked it.

I recently completed my four-week Introduction to Burlesque course. I’ve written about my first three classes and my favourite “sexy butt windshield wiper move” but I thought I’d take a beat and reflect on my overall experience, especially since the last class was all about the choreo, about putting together some of the moves I’ve learned. Sadly, the sexy butt windshield wiper wasn’t included.

The class size for this course was small — about a half dozen of us, women of all ages and body sizes and dance abilities. Being a quick course, it was never designed to teach all the moves and skills of performing burlesque but, much like the dance itself, was designed to tease and leave you wanting more. And all of us do! We all left clamouring for additional classes and learning opportunities. 

But I digress. Our class watched as our instructor demonstrated moves to the selected music. With the words “and if you screw up, fuck it, who cares, just go with it” provided as encouragement, we then took our positions and tried those moves on our own. 

My personal goal wasn’t perfection. It was the freedom to move. The freedom to respond instinctively to whatever I was feeling. Yes, I followed the prescribed moves but I wasn’t looking for where I could correct. I was looking for where I was simply enjoying being in the moment. 

And so I didn’t shy away from looking at myself in the mirror. I watched to see if I was smiling. I looked to see if I was relaxed and not stiff. I looked for the sass, the confidence, the playfulness. Ultimately, that was one of the main reasons I took this class. I wanted to grow the bold side of me. I appear to be an extrovert (and I can be) but my introvert side runs deep when it comes to my physical side. The more I push myself to love my body, the more I do. So I looked in those dance mirrors to see if that love for how I was moving was coming through. 

It was. 

After about 15 minutes dancing together, the instructor split the class in half. One half would dance and the other three ladies would whistle, cheer, clap and yell out encouragement. 

My group went first. Even though I’d danced with these ladies for three weeks, I was nervous. Dancing for others always has anxiety bubbling up inside of me and this was no exception. We took our positions, the music started and one of the audience immediately yelled “ooh-la-la!" And that was it for me. I flirted coquettishly. I flirted boldly. I flirted with the audience. I flirted with myself. I didn’t take this class for the 'ooh-la-la' but then again maybe I did. Because isn’t being confident, enjoying the moments of feeling good and looking good — aren’t they ooh-la-la moments? Not all ooh-la-la moments are sexual. Some are simply a celebration of accepting my inner and outer beauty. 

I loved how I moved. I moved like a lady, a seductress, a queen. I was someone else but I was also me. 

This was a different side than my bellydance side. Bellydancing brings out many similar feelings in me — feelings of confidence, of sassiness. But even though bellydancing has moves that bring out a sultry, sexual side, burlesque brings out a more pronounced sexuality in me. And I love it.

At the end of our performance, we switched groups and became the audience. Shortly after the music began, I yelled out "ooh-la-la" hoping that it would strike a chord in one of the ladies dancing. I’m not sure if it worked or not but, similar to myself, they all seemed to embrace what the music was making them feel.

The end of the class was bittersweet for me — lots of endings are. The bitter, of course, simply being that there would be no more classes to learn in. The sweet being what I have learned —more about burlesque and more about myself. 

I walked out the door of the studio into a warm, sultry evening, one that inspires smiles at strangers. As I strolled down a boulevard I walked tall, smiled broadly on the outside and giggled secretly on the inside.

For I was and am a woman embracing her inner ooh-la-la.