Belly dancing

I love Pilates. I love that it's a workout for body and mind, I love that it keeps me both strong and supple and, most of all, I love that it's kept my muffin-top at bay. So I was disappointed to learn last week that my twice weekly classes had been cancelled for a fortnight as the instructor was jetting off to New York to do her Masters under the tutelage of one of the world's Pilates gurus. Still, at least I'll know that the torture she'll put me through on her return will be cutting-edge.

Her classes have been replaced by belly dancing. And in a bid not to slide into too much of a morning-coffee-and-six-chocolate-biscuits habit in the interim, my friend Sarah and I decided to give it a go.

"You'll be rubbish at that!" snorted Ian when I told him of my new fitness plan. "Don't you need a belly and a bum? Anyway, you're English and English girls have no rhythm."

With this fabulous spousal endorsement still ringing in my ears, I entered the studio on the appointed day with some trepidation. Sarah was already there, sheepishly tying a colourful scarf adorned with bells and beads round her non-existent hips. She is also a belly-less and bum-less Brit, so at least there'd be two of us making fools of ourselves. Maybe if the humiliation became too great, we could just revert to British girl type and simply put down our handbags and self-consciously shuffle round those instead of partaking in all this uninhibited foreign hip-wiggling nonsense.

Apart from the lovely Iman, our Egyptian instructor, the class consisted of three other ladies of infinitely more suitable physique than ours and who also spoke Arabic and could therefore sing along to all the songs. Such an advantage; I always find it easier to dance to a song if I know the words. Oh, and a few large glasses of Sauvignon Blanc help too.

Sadly both lip-syncing and alcohol were out, so I'd just have to relax my inhibitions along with my hips if I was to have a hope of not embarrassing myself. Sarah smiled nervously at me and we took up our positions at the back of the class.

And do you know, we weren't half bad. After mastering the walk - toes should be turned in and you put one foot in front of the other while dramatically swinging your hips from side to side - we moved on to the basic arm movements and side steps. We even managed to follow Iman as she put some moves together in a short dance. OK, we looked more wooden puppet than snake-hipped Arabian princess, but it was fun. And isn't that what exercise is supposed to be?