When you go through an upsetting breakup with your boyfriend, the thing to do, apparently, is attend an Ecstatic Dancing workshop. The friend who invited me didn’t say much about it, except that it was, “a place to dance without being hit on.” Apparently the practice would cleanse my aura and allow me to vibrate with the rhythms of the universe. So, I thought, why the heck not.

The Facebook invite hilariously clarified the tone of the event with their tag: “No alcohol, no drugs, no talking. We dance barefoot.” I took a sip of my wine and clicked “Going”. I was sold.

I showed up wearing yoga clothes and a tunic I got from India so I would fit in. My friends and I were greeted by girls wearing headbands whose faces were frozen in an expression of ethereal ecstasy, as if they’d just heard white angels whisper in their ears. They cleansed our chakras with a sage smudging and offered us “elixirs” of green tea kombucha. I was in over my hippie head—it was exactly the kind of weird I needed.

We entered a church gym full of people wearing flowing clothing who were gaily unleashing their spirits to music. I became acutely aware of not knowing what to do with my hands. A girl there with wild, frizzy hair and a long sheer robe was twisting and turning like a branch in the wind. It was like she had no bones. She looked like a goddess. I remember thinking that, if I could dance like her, I would consider myself well on my way to spiritual integration.

Instead, my body seemed to be at the mercy of 29 years of awkward repression and self-resistance, most of which I carried in the form of muscle tension. However, I tried to overcome the trauma of grade 6 dances and let myself succumb to the barefoot madness. I let my body pulse to the music as best I could. I felt free.

There were a group of girls who obviously frequented these kinds of events, wearing what looked like thick elastic bands that wrapped around their torsos and legs. One of the girls in the group was built like a princess warrior. Her body was pure sinew and bones. She was doing something that looked like graceful backward cartwheels, her face a picture of calm focus. I wanted to be like her when my spirit grew up.

When the no talking rule was lifted, I approached her to find out her secret. I imagined it had something to do with the elastic bands she was wearing. Maybe they bore the secret of why she was so present in her physical body. (I’m sure it had nothing to do with the years of yoga practice she’d committed to). “It’s called the Body Braid,” She told me, when I asked what she was wearing. “It helps you maintain proper alignment. I wear it for an hour everyday and since getting it, it’s helped transform my body.”

While I wasn’t sure what her pre-braided body must have looked like, I wanted a piece of this alignment and freedom for myself. I wanted my body to transform! She looked like she was wrapped in a cushy elastic hug. Her shoulders were back and not curving inwards like mine tend to. I instinctively raised a hand to my left shoulder to massage out a constant knot I’d lugged around since my first week of medical school.

Alignment matters. Having a toned, healthy body requires our bones and muscles to be in the right place. If they’re not, which happens due to improper posture, repetitive movements, incorrect footwear and, of course, excessive sitting, we experience tightness, pain and an overall poor-looking physique. You’ve seen it before: slouched shoulders, a bend at the hips, neck craning forward—not very sexy. Alignment helps with lymphatic drainage and proper circulation. It helps with muscle toning. This braided yogi I was talking to was perfectly aligned. She looked like she was ready to pick up a spear and tear after a zebra through the savannah. I imagined her climbing trees, dancing freely under the stars and doing backflips on a whim. Standing next to her I felt doughy and slouchy in comparison. I didn’t like the feeling.

I wanted the Body Braid.

I found it on the internet for under $100. It was made in Canada and developed by a medical doctor. I immediately ordered one and a few weeks later it arrived. I figured it was cheaper than a series of massages.

The body braid is made of two intersecting elastic bands in black or white that are about 5 cm wide. The straps can be adjusted and are sized according to your height. An instructional video on their website shows you how to wrap the braid around your body with 4 wraps on each side, one under each arm, one around the hips, behind the knee and around the shin. The end of each wrap is secured under the feet like a stirrup.

Once I was finished wrapping myself in, I felt my shoulder press back, my thighs straighten and the arches of my feet lift.

I liked the buoyant, uplifting feeling. It was teaching my body how to be—I was hooked.

I had a date that night and seriously considered either cancelling or wearing the thing out to the bar. Both those options seemed far superior to separating myself from this magical feeling of elasticity and buoyancy. (I eventually did remove it to go on the date, but probably shouldn’t have bothered. Next time I know: always prioritize posture.)

Since buying it, I’ve worn it for yoga classes, exercise, going out for walks and sitting at the computer.

My postural goals are to align my shoulders and take some strain off of my lower back. I want to feel integrated and connected to my body. In the cerebral world we live in, our bodies are often simply viewed as tools to carry our skulls around. The Body Braid is helping to connect all the parts of me: physical, mental and emotional.

For more information: bodybraid.com 

*Body Braid did not endorse me to write this blog. However, I really wish they had.