Tuesday, March 28, 2006

triviality

Last Thursday, a little group of us girls from work attended a belly dancing lesson. It was as fun as you'd expect. I wasn't too bad at it. I'm co-ordinated and I can isolate and undulate my ribs pretty well but I had a little trouble with the shimmy. What I really liked was that my body type actually gives me an advantage in this activity! Woo, check these Egyptian hips! So, we might all sign up for a full belly dancing course soon now that we've had a taste. Coincidence: the teacher happens to be a woman who resided in the apartment next to Toni and I when we lived in Chinatown. Back then, she taught the lessons from a room which happened to share a wall with my bedroom. I was constantly tormented by exotic music and creaking floorboards... It was a trying year in so many ways.

The belly dancing lesson was, for some reason, in Little Portugal. Walking out of the dance studio, my companions started raving about the Portuguese egg tarts from the Nova Era Bakery on the corner of Bloor and Dovercourt. I had never had the Portuguese kind, only the Chinese variation on the theme, so I raced in to buy one. Recently I've been trying to hold back on the baked goods but I was feeling at peace with my curves after the belly dancing, so I kind of forgot about that. How was the egg tart? It was fantastic. I can't believe I waited this long to experience one. It changed my whole outlook. After eating that egg tart, the city streets smelled wonderful in a way I've never noticed before. I'm serious! Walking home along Bloor Street, first I could smell the churrasquera shops and their spinning rotisserie chickens. Then I caught the mouth-watering scent of barbecued beef kalbi in Korea Town. Further east, that changed to fish and chips, then Indian curry, then ground coffee. I turned south down the residential street and I could smell all kinds of tasty home cooked meals, then it was the aroma of lemongrass when I reached Harbord Street. I have honestly never noticed food smells in my neighbourhood before. I'm not making it up: this was all because of that egg tart. Trippy. Then I got home and found out that egg tarts contain over 500 calories each. It was worth it, though.

On Saturday I got my hair cut for the first time in months. Not a big change, just neatening up the disheveled birds' nest. Word to the wise: if you ever try the "girls' mullet" hair style, be prepared to spend a year or more growing it out. Anyway, that's me fresh from the salon. In real life, without professional attention, I never look so sleek and glossy so I had to preserve that fleeting moment of glamour.

I feel pretty good recently, heath-wise, as I've been able to knock off most of the inevitable weight gain from the Thanksgiving/ Christmas/ New Years/ Robbie Burns/ Winterlicious/ Valentines/ Birthday sequence of indulgence. I did this by maintaining my five days a week gym routine and by being somewhat less reckless with the snacking. I'm still far from being a bikini bombshell but at least my clothes from last summer will zip up now.

Saturday night, however, all my good behaviour was reversed thanks to the surprise birthday party for Jorge, hosted by his family and bride-to-be. Nothing quite like happy parents to make sure you eat enough to cause physical discomfort... It was the biggest meal I've had this year! There were more desserts than there were guests! The pineapple and chocolate slab cake was especially lovely but I also had my second ever Portuguese egg tart. What a meal.

2 comments :

Hikaru said...

wow, you look so young with the new haircut.

random musing, i think you would look pretty good with a really short hair cut, puffy in front. dyky, but cute.

mmm, don't mind me. i actually prefer long, long hair. random image in my head of maetel from galaxy express 999.... yes, random.

Ceridwen Devi said...

Not been round your blog for a while. It's even better than ever. Hairdo is also cool! Short hair always looks good on the head of an independent woman. Sorry to hear about Canada's latest war casualty.

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