The instructor asked if I was signing up. After my laughter subsided, I quickly pointed out that my derriere is twice the size of hers, so I have substantially more to lift and hold up on the pole, thereby making my participation highly unlikely. (I used the same reasoning with my yoga instructor--I should only have to hold the poses half as long as she does since I am using more body weight. Both laughed and said that meant it was a better workout. Oh goodie!) But I admit it. I'm intrigued. They raved of what a great workout it is and how toned they've become. (I'm thinking they started out more toned than I am, but hey.) They spoke of cameraderie, fun and confidence gained. One was weight training and running at the gym, but quit because this is more fun with better results. (What?? I almost signed up right then.) I still have some reservations though. I honestly think I would hit the floor and crack my head or my tailbone. And I heard a couple of nasty squeaks when a wrong move caused skin to meet pole in friction. Ouch! And where would I take these new skills? I don't plan on joining Cirque, and it's not like there are clubs around here with open poles so my friends and I could go "dancing". If there are, I'm not aware and wouldn't go. (Germ issues, anyone?) And I don't see us installing a pole at home. We have enough trouble making it to the bathroom over sleeping dogs and their toys. I don't need to smack my face into a pole in the middle of the night. But, you know, I don't go around in my everyday life doing yoga poses. I just do yoga at the gym. So maybe I could just pole dance at the class and that would be it. I didn't sign up yet. And if I do, I PROMISE there will be no pictures or videos posted here, or anywhere else for that matter. But I have a new respect for what it takes physically to perform with a pole. I am curious as to whether or not I could actually do it--without a concussion or broken bones. I mostly wonder if I spun around while hanging upside down for long enough if the fat in my butt would slide to my boobs. And would they move back to where they used to be? So I just might try this. (What? The tattoo? Oh, yeah, that. It turned out beautifully! So I can recommend a talented tatt artist if you need one, but there's something you should know about the location!)
My knight decided to get another tattoo and got a recommendation for a highly-talented tatt artist. He asked me to come along, and I agreed because I like spending time with my knight, and I also want some input on any paintings I will be looking at for the rest of my life. I wouldn't want him buying a piece of art for the living room without my input, so why wouldn't I help with this? He failed to mention that the tattoo studio was in a pole-dancing bar! Well, actually, it's a pole-dancing school that happens to have a tattoo studio and bar in it. I guess pole-dancing is a hot trend in exercise right now, because lots of spas/gyms offer these classes. It will come as no shock to most of you that know me, but I had never been in a pole-dancing club. I think my mouth dropped open . . . and stayed that way! Let me tell you, I was amazed at the sheer athleticism these women had. They grabbed the pole with both hands, kicked their legs up around the pole, then hung upside down, letting go with their hands, and twirling around kicking their feet and bending in all sorts of pretzel positions--upside down!! With no hands! And no one fell on their head! The upper body and core strength they displayed was incredible and beautiful to watch. I think most people associate pole-dancing with strip clubs, and therefore it brings up a minefield of issues with women's self-esteem, exploitation, and selling sex. But Cirque du Soleil dances with poles. It's artistic and sensual without being overly sexual. In Cirque, men and women both use poles to twirl, spin, and defy gravity with flexibility, balance, and sheer strength. Of course, it's set to artistic music with fancy make-up and themed costumes, but it's essentially the same concepts taught in this class.