With strains of Moroccan music over my head, I sway gently to the beat. I am a sensual, beautiful woman with grace and femininity. A flick of my bejewelled hips or a coy flutter of my eyelashes will send men into a frenzy.

At least that’s what I thought my first belly dancing class would be like. In reality I am barefoot in tracksuit bottoms in a community hall, a hop and a skip from the kebab shops of Leith Walk. Still, as I am led patiently through the basics in an all-female beginners’ class, I can’t help but feel like an Arabian princess.

Belly dancing is awash with stereotypes. As far as I was concerned it was all about seducing men. The tasselled-bra and glitter-knickers displays were basically hands-off lap dances with a bit more jewellery. I was sure it was a skill I could get by without.

But of late the health benefits of the dance form have been pushed to the fore. Friends who were hooked on Pilates and yoga classes have been swapping their mats for rings on their toes. Belly dancing suddenly sounds less like the sleaziness of Carry On girls or the kitschness of I Dream of Jeannie, and more about whittling down your waistline with a jolly good work-out.

Its prerequisites are few. All you need is a hip scarf — complete with jangly coins, as the noise they create is useful for knowing whether you’re shaking your tail feather enough — and a floaty veil.

Beyond that, all you require is nerve. Exposing my naked stomach to the world is not something I relish. I had visions of a class filled with rows of tanned, taunt navels. In fact, the only belly on show was the six-pack and soft curved hips of instructor Hilary Thacker, an expert in Egyptian dance and full-time belly dancing promoter.

Otherwise my classmates — who came in all shapes and sizes, including a heavily pregnant lady — were dressed casually in T-shirts and leggings. There may have been no tummies on show but everybody clearly loved the opportunity to put on a few beads and bangles. When the intermediate class floated in, it was apparent that the better you get, then off come the leggings and out come the tassles.

“There are two types of belly dancing,” explains Thacker, “There’s the saucy stuff you get in the Middle East, which is designed to entertain men. Then you get the artistic sort, which is about beautiful movements and women enjoying themselves. I teach a class where women can express themselves and feel pretty and girlie. The ladies are welcome to make an effort to dress up but know they won’t be leered at.”

Suitably reassured and feeling pleasantly uninhibited among my fellow beginners, I followed as Thacker led us through some gentle stretches and basic moves. These are deliberately slow and graceful so they are easy to follow. After half an hour of gentle gyration, Egyptian head bobbing, shimmying and twirling your veil around, you are well on the way to grasping the basics. When Thacker then upped the tempo and invited the class to shake their derrières in a very vigorous — but still entirely artistic fashion — there was no holding us back.

Thacker has been teaching and performing belly dancing for almost 25 years, but confesses she was sceptical before she began. She attended a class in London to lose weight, yet soon realised the benefits extended far beyond shedding the pounds. She found belly dancing’s tacky image to be inaccurate and learnt to love the female camaraderie intrinsic to the dance. She quickly progressed from pupil to teacher and, as word spread of her talents in the then small world of British belly dancing, Thacker was invited to teach classes in Edinburgh.

She now heads a mini belly dancing empire: teaching, performing and promoting the ancient art as well as selling educational films, costumes and jewellery in her shop. The rapid growth in the dance’s popularity in Scotland is mostly down to her. There are now bellydancing events at the annual Edinburgh Mela and clubs running all over the country, including the exotic-sounding Orcadian Belly Dancing Babes Club.

Twentysomething Natalya Schmerl, an Edinburgh-based personal trainer from Adelaide, initially took up belly dancing as a form of gentle exercise. “Belly dancing works all your muscle groups: arms, legs, torso and neck. I go every week now and I can feel which muscles I’ve been using and am more aware of my body’s strengths and weaknesses.”

Contrary to popular belief, belly dancing did not originate as a means of male titillation. Oriental dance, as it is also known, has existed for almost 7,000 years, adapting over time to incorporate movements from Egyptian, Turkish and north African folk dances.

Rather than a means of displaying the goods to the sultan before he picked out women from the harem, the movements were originally designed to focus on the pelvic region and prepare the abdominal muscles for childbirth. Some belly dancers believed it aided fertility.

The women would dance in the harem for each other’s entertainment, a tradition that still endures in modern-day Middle Eastern countries at times of family celebrations, or even to lighten up a dull day of household chores.

Despite most belly dancing being entirely innocent, performers are often associated with prostitution in the art form’s native countries. Tourists may be surprised to learn then that belly dancing is illegal in nations such as the United Arab Emirates and Oman.

Thacker is keen to disassociate herself from this seedier side of the dance. While travelling through the Middle East teaching and filming instructional videos, she is still met with disbelief when she says she is a professional belly dancer.

Even in Scotland, restaurateurs were uptight when she first suggested dancing for customers in restaurants. Now, 15 years later, Edinburgh boasts three Moroccan restaurants featuring belly dancers, including Walima, which has a 20-strong troupe of resident dancers.

“People are slowly seperating the facts from the folklore and seeing bellydancing’s benefits,” says Thacker. “I hope I’ve helped to make it respectable.”

Belly dancing classes are available at Dance Base, Edinburgh. www.dancebase.co.uk, 0131 225 5525 or e-mail hilary@hilarysbazaar.com

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