I'm one of the few people you'll meet who will admit they can't dance. I know I'm a klutz on the dance floor — sort of a cross between Elaine from "Seinfeld" and an uncoordinated exotic dancer. But this knowledge has never prevented me from trying to dance. I took almost every type of dance class as a child — ballet, tap, jazz. Not only was I bad, but I have a scar on my chin from a nasty face-first splat I took during a tap class when I was 7. Yet, despite evidence to the contrary, I won't give up on dancing. Maybe, I thought, I just hadn't found the right kind of dance for me.

Hence, my decision to take a belly-dancing class as part of this series. It was a kind of dancing I hadn't tried before and had always been interested in.

It certainly has a fascinating history, with roots in a number of ancient cultures, including the Middle East and the Mediterranean. Traditionally, it was performed at fertility ceremonies, parties preparing a young woman for marriage and other girly-type things. That's because the motions in belly dancing are supposed to celebrate the experience of being a woman. It's just a coincidence that it looks really hot.

Once I decided to take on belly dancing, the next step was finding a class. That's how I met Wendy Smith, who has a studio in Milford, and has been belly dancing for 10 years.

She was first introduced to it through an adult education class and has loved it ever since. Now she teaches, and agreed to briefly take me under

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her wing.

When I got to class, there were only a few other students, which I figured would give me a more personalized teaching experience. Of course, I thought, if they were all way better than I was, it could be really embarrassing.

Smith began by showing us the proper belly-dancing stance — feet hip-width apart, knees slightly bent, arms gently raised. To my relief, we didn't have to actually show our bellies. Smith did, so we could see how she moved. But the rest of us were free to keep it covered.

We did get to wear cool scarves with fake coins attached to them. Smith said the coins are a nod to the early days of belly dancing when women would sew coins onto their scarves to keep people from stealing their loose change as they danced. The coins were also a status symbol, with the best dancers sporting the most coin-laden scarves.

Now that we were in position, it was time to start moving. First, Smith taught us to do a hip circle: Using your upper abdominal muscles, you push the belly out, gently swing one hip, draw the belly in and gently move the other hip. It felt less like dancing than putting on a pair of skintight jeans. Still, it was surprisingly hard to master. My motions felt awkward and choppy, like I was moving the wrong thing at the wrong time.

Smith asked us to imagine drawing a circle on the ground with our belly. That helped a little, but just when I got comfortable with the hip circle, Smith taught us how to shake our chests. Now, I'm a modest girl and hence, not in the habit of wiggling my chest in public. But hey, when in Rome. . . The chest circle was similar to the hip circle: Push out, move to the side, push in, move to the other side. Still, I felt like my body just wouldn't follow Smith's directions.

If that wasn't hard enough, Smith also taught us to walk while doing the belly and chest motions. The trick is to do half the motion, take a step, do the rest, and take another step. It was kind of like walking, chewing gum and playing the harmonica at the same time.

The class was almost impossible for a non-dancer like me. But, while I'm not a dancer, I'm also not a quitter and the following Monday, I was back.

Though I still hadn't mastered the basic moves, Smith decided to teach us new ones, starting with shimmies. For lack of a better explanation, a shimmy is just shaking your hips and bottom. And, apparently, there are lots of ways to shake it.

First, there's the hip shimmy, in which you use your tummy muscles to swing your hips. The trick is to push the hips down, and not move them side to side. I was having trouble, so Smith stood in front of me and had me hold her hips as she shimmied, so I could feel her motions.

Clearly, belly dancing is not for the shy.

We also learned to shimmy with our knees and feet. I had an even tougher time with these than with the hip shimmy. To make matters worse, the student standing in front of me had been studying belly dance for a long time and could do all the moves perfectly.

I hated her.

Midway through the class, I was so frustrated I wanted to walk out. But I couldn't. First of all, I wasn't wearing shoes (everyone danced barefoot). Secondly, I was determined not to let my self-consciousness stand in the way of having fun and learning something new.

A week later, I showed up for my last class. When class started, Smith showed us how to move our arms. It's important to keep the arms engaged while dancing, she said, otherwise you look awkward.

She taught us something she called "snake arms." Working from the shoulder, you slowly lift the arm up in a kind of waving motion until you get to shoulder level. Then, as you lower that arm, you gently bring the other arm up.

I was OK at this, but was pretty sure I couldn't do this, wiggle my belly and my chest, and walk all at the same time. My body just isn't used to working that hard. Once we'd learned the arm moves, it was back to the hips. Smith decided to show us a "cute little move" we could use. It started with having us raise one hip twice, then bring it back to center, then lower it twice, and then bring it back to center again. All this time, we'd have one foot in front of the other. When we were done shaking the one hip, we'd take the foot in front and gracefully loop it behind us, until the other foot was in front.

Then, we'd repeat the move with the other hip. Smith had us do this a few times, moving backward through the studio. I still felt clumsy, but I was getting used to moving my body this way.

What I wasn't used to was the belly-dancing mannequin in the back of Smith's studio. Every time I did the routine, I ended up colliding with the statue. It was embarrassing for both of us.

The last thing we learned was dancing with veils — those really long scarves that belly dancers shift and twirl as they dance. These were even cooler than the coin scarves.

Smith showed us a couple of basic moves — encasing yourself in the veil, twirling it around you. It was a blast and, no matter what the mirror told me, I actually did feel kind of sassy and exotic.

I guess, then, that the whole thing was worth it. It didn't make me a better dancer, but I learned to be less self-conscious, and realized that the important thing is to have fun.

And, I should avoid running into mannequins.

Wendy Smith holds classes on Mondays and Saturdays, at 16 New Haven Ave., Milford. Classes are $6 each. For more information, call 877-7993 or 257-3805.