(I never finished this post, but I like it...)
As you may have noticed, I've been swing dancing pretty regularly for about a month and a half now--taking lindy hop lessons and then social dancing for a few hours a week. Last weekend, the party in Busan was the longest and most I've ever swing danced in my life--the party was from 7 p.m. until 2 a.m. and I danced for most of it. I was one of the newest converts there (some guys I danced with said they'd only been going 6 months, but most were upwards of 3 or more years), and though I was all gussied up in a pretty dress with my hair done all lovely and whatnot, certain demons would not be silenced that made it a little hard for me to work up courage to ask people to dance (which I'd have to do because foreign women are REALLY INTIMIDATING... apparently...). Even more than my neophyte status.
I have a long and highly emotional relationship with dancing--any kind of dancing really--that is inextricably entwined with my body image. Like Dante's lovers Francesca and Paulo spinning in their whirlwind in the Inferno for all eternity, I cannot dance without it affecting my body image (or vice versa) in both beautiful and terrible ways.