The post-dance post.

When unpacking (yes, FINALLY), I found that I needed to get rid of some old clothes to make room for the Christmas bounty. This is, essentially, a good problem. But what it means is that I am taking a hard look at a lot of pre-pregnancy clothes and finally accepting that I should get rid of them. Even though I love them, even though they are in good shape and barely worn, even though I can kinda squeeze myself into them. The fact is that many of them simply don't look good on me anymore. And that's because my post-pregnancy body is also my post-dancing body and I can't seem to wrap my head around that latter bit.

I started dancing when I was 5 and didn't stop (save for some involuntary, injury-related sidelining here and there) until I was 33 (and about to get pregnant, move, buy a house, change my whole effing life). So for most of my life, my body has been my instrument and I was obsessed very, very interested in it working well. This meant I not only took dance class and rehearsed but also spent hours at the gym and taught Pilates and took long hikes on the weekend and biked around the city and took yoga and and AND. And I had the small waist, strong legs and unwavering, unquestioning body confidence to show for it.

Focusing on the utility of my body was a great thing. It got me out of the downward spiral of disordered eating that is rampant in the dance world (and held sway in my head in college); it made me strong inside and out. If a piece I was working on was really fast paced and intense, I went to the gym and did cardio. If I had to lift people and do a lot of partnering (this being modern dance, I was required not only to be lifted but also to lift my fellow dancers, men included), I went to the gym and did a lot of weights. If I was injured, I went to the pool and did deep water aerobics with the grannies. It was all about getting to the next show as strong and healthy as possible.

Obviously, my big issue now is: what do I do now that there is no "next show"?

I'm feeling sad about my body (perhaps 'vain' would be the word?) for the first time in a long time (not since I was 100 pounds and felt disgustingly fat. Ah, GOOD TIMES.). I miss my old abs. I miss my old butt. I miss my old legs. I feel saggy and lumpy and I'm NOT used to it. 20 months after Z's birth, I still can't in good conscience wear a few of my old clothes that I love dearly (I'm looking at YOU, clingy brown Ella Moss dress and YOU worn-twice Joe's jeans.)

My body has changed and it's not realistic to imagine that I will ever be in the kind of shape I was Before again. Before, I used to spend hours a day engaged in intense physical activity. Today, I try to do something physical every day. When I can, I go to the gym or use the Pilates equipment at the studio where I work part-time. When I can't, I walk Z and the dog, I do a DVD in our living room during naptime, I blast Justin Timberlake and dance around the room with Z watching me, amazed (or possibly wondering what brand of crazy her mom is and if it's genetic or, worse, CONTAGIOUS.).

I am getting settled into my post-dance life. It's a relief to not have to constantly manage the cycle of physical pain and injuries. This post-dance life is SO full. But my post-dance body is proving to be a little harder to adjust to.