This evening, I was feeling kind of blue. I was tired, feeling over-worked, over-weight, and under-appreciated. I didn't feel like going out at all, but I've been a committed student of a Middle Eastern Dance class that meets every Wednesday night, and even though my mind was begging to differ, I knew my body would thank me later. I've learned from experience that I can go to class in a bad mood, but I never leave class in a bad mood. So I threw on some clothes that reflected my drab mood and headed out to dance class.

I adore this class. It fills a gaping void in the creative department in my life. And I adore my teacher. She is beauty incarnate. I could watch her for hours. She is the most graceful and fluid dancer I have ever seen. She looks like her name should be Jasmine or Cleopatra, but her name translates from Hebrew to "gift from G‑d," which, truth be told, suits her perfectly. Her guidance is beyond instruction in technique. She treats movement as a meditation and encourages us to strive for beauty of movement in all areas of our lives.

All I could see was a postpartum pooch shimmying in a baggy tee-shirtThis particular evening, I was feeling stiff inside and out. And to top it off, she had brought in a stage mirror to help hone in on a certain movement we were working on. I usually don't mind looking at myself in the mirror, but tonight I just couldn't quite get into it. I felt like everyone else was dressed better, moved more fluidly, and was, basically, just having more fun. This style of dance celebrates the body and emphasizes the beauty of natural movement regardless of shape or size, but all I could see was a postpartum pooch shimmying in a baggy tee-shirt. Not exactly the image of fluid beauty.

My teacher noticed me grimacing in the mirror, and asked about my mental whereabouts. "I feel so un-beautiful tonight," I blurted. She stared at me deeply for a long moment and then took my hand and led me to the center of the room. She changed the music and disappeared behind the mirror. "Tonight, you are all princesses... follow me."

Darbukah drums pulsed an earthy and exotic rhythm as she ceremoniously donned a red velvet tiara thick with gold beads and demonstrated our task. The assignment was to wear the tiara, walk the interior of the circle on the balls of our feet (the "pigeon" step), chest raised with our arms out to the sides. We needed to greet each woman in the circle with our eyes, continue to the center of the circle, and perform a free-style princess dance in tempo with the drums, and in character.

Each woman had to take a turn and then pass the crown to someone else. It was not optional. Eye contact was mandatory and we were instructed not to make a parody of it, not to over-do it, but rather to assume the persona of a true princess. Confident – Regal – Simple – Beautiful.

"Princesses don't show their effort. Let the movement be slight and gentle," she coached. "Stand up tall, believe that you are worthy of the throne. You are the daughter of the King."

I'll be honest, I wasn't feeling super-princessy. I would have preferred to just watch everyone else strut their princess-pigeon selves. But I did it. And ladies, I am so glad I did!

I can't remember the last time I wore a tiara in a room full of adult women, and played "princess" with musical accompaniment. It was so liberating. So beautifying – if that is a word. I was nervous and self-conscious when I began, but the faces of the women I greeted helped me forget about myself a bit. When my turn was over, I passed on the crown and watched the rest of the women spin into royalty before my eyes. It was one of the most powerful experiences I have ever had.

It was so transformative, so Queen EstherWomen of all ages, shapes and sizes unfolded into their best, most regal and elegant selves. Laced with confidence, style, grace, class and purpose, these women - not all fantastic dancers, by the way - became perfect princesses.

It was pure therapy. My focus completely shifted from hyper-body awareness to super-soul awareness. I transformed from shlumpy Mommy to "Princess Sarah" using my body, the chalice of the soul, to acknowledge Him and thank Him through dance. It was so transformative, so Queen Esther.

There are plenty of times that I find myself feeling totally out of touch with my inner self. I forget that I come from a long royal line... Sarah, Rachel, Rebecca, Leah, Esther… and this dance reminded me of how possible it is to access that place inside of me. When I'm in Princess mode (I'm talking daughter of "The King of Kings," not the Sleeping Beauty variety), not only do I feel confident and purposeful, but I share that vibe with everyone around me. A true princess elevates her surroundings, she lifts up her people, she is a confident and selfless leader.

You better believe that since that night I've invested in a few extra tiaras to keep around the house, just in case. And there is no question as to my costume for Purim. After all, every one of us women is a Daughter of The King. We need to remember that simple, glorious fact and own it.