The other day I was talking to a friend about pole dancing because I took a class a few years back. It was fun. I joined to get in shape and feel sensual. After the experience…well, I’ll leave it to you to assume what happened to my pole dancin’ calling.
For about the first half of the pole dancing class, we stretched and then the teacher put on music for us to walk around the room to get our sexay on. This was the tough part. Getting in your zone…feeling the music…letting it move your body. I laughed and looked at the others…then I’d get mad because they got in the zone while I was laughing. So my right leg would take a lazy, drunk step forward while I swung my hips to the right, and then my left leg would stagger forward for a left hip swing. I let the lids of my eyes sink halfway down so I couldn’t see anyone else and try to keep the zone going. I walked and walked, swinging from side to side, my body feeling the groove.
After we brought sexy back, there were two cushioned stages with a pole in the middle of them. We each took turns going up there. The first pole dancing step was to walk around the pole with our right hand on the top of it, lean out with our legs angled toward the pole, and swing around it. Good! I swung around the pole feeling strong and sexy. I wanted to shout, “Bring it on!” We did this a few times until everyone felt comfortable with it.
Then the instructor was about to show us the next step. My body was screaming ‘sexy’ inside and I couldn’t wait to feel the pole again. With the instructor’s right arm at the top of the pole, her left hand underneath overlapping the right, she lifted and bent her legs behind her, turning, drifting beautifully down the pole until she so eloquently made it to the mat with her legs flared behind. The strength…the beauty…the “I so can do that” feeling made me want to be one of the first people in line. I hopped up on the mat, grabbed the pole, walked around it a few times, getting in the mood, placed my hands as shown by the instructor, lifted my legs—damp palms screeched down the pole and boom, straight to the mat. I thought, “Seriously?! Get your fat butt up there and spin. Prove you brought sexy back!” This time, I grabbed the pole with a vice grip, lifted my legs up and nothing. I wasn’t spinning, nor did I fall straight to the mat. I just hung on the bar, like a drunken starlet has-been. I couldn’t nor wouldn’t do it again. Too many sets of eyes watched me as I threw away my sexiness.
So now, the only pole dancing I’ll be doing is this one.
Pole Dancing and Giving Sexy Back,