Writing by Muriel Munga Closeup typewriter
Size does not matter

A debatable subject I reckon…

As I stared at my reflection in the mirror, thin-looking, firm legs (please let me dream!) enveloped in black tight leggings, I wonder how I let myself come out of the house after a long hard day at work, in a rainy and cold night just to shake it all out!

The Master smiled and took position…looking 6 feet tall as the neck stretched to the ceiling and the slow dance began… my neck followed the rhythm and the instructions…left….right…left…right…dizziness got hold of my head (Was that hunger? My last meal had been devoured around 14.30 and it was 20.35 by now)…I had to slow down…this was just the beginning…then shoulders moved up and down and twisted around; I could feel pain kicking in as if I had shaken muscles which never wanted to be found…but boy was I stiff! The thing is that I always thought, despite a lack of regular exercises in the past years, that I was indeed fit and toned. These unfortunately were just illusions I had come to believe as true. I kept wondering whether the Master will see me fit to go deep into this experiment but no one stopped me so I went on…

‘See…I am black African woman and Africans are supposed to have rhythm in them’ bones! But let me tell you this: the neck, shoulders and arms were definitely lacking some and had been in a sleepy state for a very long time. But I had to go through with it as this was my first experience. And as one knows, the first time is always the hardest!
Suddenly the music got a bit louder and the Master, black hair, dark eyes and dressed in black from head to toes, with the exception of white flat dancing shoes, showed how to work the hip movements. “I could do this” I told myself. And I did. Oh boy! I was in my world! The hip movement was innate…my pelvic area was kicking it! And front…and back…and left…and right…then full circle …I could hear my heart shouting: “Yes babe! You got the vibes! You’re doing it the African way! Show what you got”!!! I was “pelvic-trified” as pearls of sweat invaded my spine and forehead…Boy oh boy! No one could stop me. I was feeling hot…sweaty…ready for anything!

Then Master showed legs and arms movements. It felt like my head was rewinding and once again, arms wouldn’t follow my legs as if coordination between upper and lower body was malfunctioning…At that very moment I understood why my son danced the way he did. I made a mental note to find a dance class before he started “expressing” himself like I so jokingly called the “white man’s” dance!

The Master engaged into each part of the stretches and made it into a whole dance…everything moved…even the bulges on the sides felt it…muscles all over my body cried for mercy... This was excruciating pain but I loved it (no no no…I am not a masochist…or am I? I might need to work that one out).
Living this experience had been enthralling…

The teacher I nicely called the “Master” was this lovely, curvy, gorgeous woman from Poland with so much energy and power you could literally feel it…Her supple body twisted in any shape she saw fit; the explanation of every single movement was easy to comprehend and she carried a smile which never departed from her face.

One would never have thought that behind a well-rounded and curvy lady IT Manager, lies a fit and elasticated body that could bring forth muscles you never thought existed and body positions you never thought were possible.
Hear, Hear…I now confirm that indeed size does not matter.

My only regret? This movement class is only taught once a week.