When I found Pilates, I was in college while working as a professional belly dancer. At this point I had dipped my toes into commercial dance, but the financial stability I found, came from performing at restaurants, weddings, and private events. My life revolved around nightlife entertainment, and honestly, for someone in her early twenties, it felt exciting, unique, and a little chaotic in the best way.
If I wasn't performing, I was training. If I wasn't training, I was working out. If I wasn't working out, I was sewing costumes, packing for shows, answering client emails, or trying to squeeze in a few hours of sleep before doing it all over again.
It was one of the most exciting seasons of my life.
But underneath all of that was something I'd been carrying for years that only got heavier as time went on. It was the feeling that I was never quite enough. If I'm honest this started when I started dancing in my early teens. While this is common in the dance world, it really stemmed from the way I was trained and the way my coach/manager spoke to me and it unfortunately stuck into my adulthood.
No matter how much I trained, how many shows I booked, or how much I improved, there always seemed to be another level to reach. Another dancer who had better lines, had a better look , more experienced, more bubbly, or willing to charge less.
Comparison became the language of the industry in my eyes, and eventually, it became a normal outlook for me navigating this world. If you've never worked in the dance industry, it's hard to explain just how easy it is to lose yourself in it.
In dance companies, you're taught to blend in. Your job is to move as one, match the dancers around you, and become part of the group. Change yourself to match the group. On the other hand, as an independent performer, you're asking yourself how you can be more valuable, more entertaining, and how you can improve your appearance. And when your job requires you to perform in a glitter-covered two-piece costume, it's almost impossible not to compare yourself to other dancers booking the same gigs you are. Behind the scenes, there was always someone who seemed "better." Maybe she was younger. Maybe she looked different. Maybe she had a bigger following or charged less. Because the industry wasn't regulated, anyone could undercut your rates or take the next gig with ZERO experience and zero knowledge of the culturally rich dance I learned to represent.
I constantly felt like I had to prove why I deserved to be there.
To justify my prices, experience, and talent.
Looking back, I realize I wasn't just competing with other dancers.
I was constantly trying to prove that I was enough.
I loved dancing more than anything, so I kept going. But mentally, it was exhausting.
The emotional weight eventually became just as heavy as the physical one.
My body was tired, too.
Pilates is common among dancers now, but when I was training in the early 2010s, cross-training wasn't something anyone really talked about. Outside of dance, everything was cardio. I ran...a lot...and practiced yoga.
I couldn't afford yoga studio memberships, so I remember doing the same Jillian Michaels Yoga DVD every other day in my living room. Later, when I could finally afford studio classes, I completely fell in love with yoga.
The studio also offered Pilates.
I tried it.
And honestly...I didn't love it.
Not because Pilates was bad, but because
I wasn't immediately good at it.
As a trained dancer, I was used to making movement look right. My Pilates instructor kept asking me to focus on how something felt instead of how it looked. They talked about initiating movement from deep inside the body instead of simply achieving the perfect shape.
I couldn't fake my way through movement.
So naturally, being the Type A perfectionist that I am, I decided Pilates just wasn't for me.
At least, not yet.
As the years went on, I kept dancing, performing, working nights, going to school, sleeping very little, and pushing through more pain than I wanted to admit.
Eventually, enough dancers I respected kept telling me to take my Pilates practice seriously. They swore by the rehabilitative effects of the practice
So I enrolled in a Mat Pilates course at MiraCosta College and it changed my life forever.
Instead of teaching me how to perform the exercises, I learned why the method worked. For the first time, I stopped chasing the perfect shape and started paying attention to what my body was actually telling me.
Something clicked.
My back pain became manageable, my dance technique improved and I felt stronger than I ever had.
And something happened that I didn't fully understand until years later.
Pilates was the first place where I wasn't trying to be better than anyone else.
I wasn't wondering if I looked like the person next to me.
I wasn't trying to earn my place.
I wasn't trying to prove my worth.
For one hour, my body wasn't something to judge.
It was something to understand.
Looking back, I think that's why Pilates changed my life.
My dance career had taught me to constantly ask, "How do I look?"
Pilates taught me to ask, "How do I feel?"
That shift changed everything.
In sharing this, I hope you understand and see parallels between my story and the way I approach teaching. Why I tell you to focus on
your body, giving multiple options in case you need something specific to
your
body, but also,
What if
we do xyz.
I want you to leave feeling that perfection isn't the goal rather understanding how to connect and move your body in a way that makes us feel stronger and more confident, even if improvement happens little by little.
Want to know more about my road to becoming an instructor? Stay tuned 👀
xo, Marisol
