Shopping at Rakkasah

For the past three years, I've been holed up in my room pretty much constantly, since that was the best means of being in contact with my boyfriend. I spent hours and hours online every day, either playing games with him or being on Skype when we weren't playing a game. Since he has removed himself from my life, I've been working out what to do with myself. I do still have fun playing WOW, but the urgency to log on every day is no longer there. At the same time, I realized I needed to get out of the house and the rut I've been in. I need more exercise, or at least activity, and I need to encourage myself to develop a more positive outlook, self esteem, and body image.

So I took up belly dancing.

A good SCA friend of mine has been dancing for 11 years and teaching for three. Her most recent class started up a month ago, and she invited me to join. Since it sounded like fun, and fit pretty much all the paramenters I knew I needed, I accepted with gratitude.

It has been a lot of fun, and I feel better than I have in, well, years. Until today.

Today, I had to go... shopping. Now, I'm not a shopper. I know a lot of women who are; my mother is one of them. I know many who aren't; I'm one of them. I've never had any fun going, least of all as a kid, when I'd hide, pouting, on the crossbars in the circular stands of dresses. It's boring and depressing and expensive. My closet is only so big, and my mother picks me up something I'll never wear every few weeks or so anyway. My aunt works at Ross. I get plenty of clothes for my birthday and Christmas, and she has very good taste and an uncanny sixth sense about what will look fabulous on me. For myself, if I need something, I'll eyeball a place til I find it, get it rung up, and leave. (This is clothes shopping we're talking about. Yarn, DVDs and books are something totally different.)

Ok, moving right along... This weekend was apparently the biggest festival for my new hobby in the world, and it took place 2 hours away. Rakkassah. My teacher "encouraged" me to go and pick out my costume. I got the distinct impression She Would Be Disappointed if I didn't. (Actually, she probably wouldn't care. But it makes for good blog fodder to pretend.) It was a lot of fun to go. I saw really beautiful people doing what I hope to be able to do with a few decades of practice. Seemed everyone was smiling, and helpful, and thrilled with our common bond of sisterhood.

And I shopped.

And I shopped.

And I shopped some more.

Got to be so's I knew every article of clothing in that place, and, let me remind you, this the biggest festival like it in the WORLD. My feet are killing me. Still, I sure as heck want to show off what I got to SOMEONE after all that work, because I'm not sure yet if I'm going to have the courage to actually wear it.

(The blue blob at the neck is a scarf. No matter how I work my camera or rearrange the scarf, it still looks like a blue blob.)

Please note this outfit is not a set. Each piece was individually selected, by moi (my teacher's response to my queries were: "Wear what you want!"). Each piece was also, frustratingly, at a different vendor. Pants, skirt, fringe belt, coin belt, coin bra, dangling jewlery thingy, scarf. I'm pretty sure my ATM card is suffering from a nervous breakdown by now.

I'm exhausted.