Nah, I just started taking some random pole dancing classes in Sugar House to get more in touch with my feminine grrrrrrr... (or girrrl, depending on how you view that.) As if Danny and I didn't learn our lesson from the (primarily) unused copies of Carmen Electra's Strip Tease Aerobics...but this new dance class seemed like a good idea: five lessons, one month to turn me into a raging sex goddess.
The "Groupon" technically came in my Christmas stocking from Santa Clause (dirty old man). Now that I think about it, so did the Carmen Electra DVDs years ago (super dirty old man).
I've got a few friends that have taken the classes. Ok, one friend (Hot Courtney, but she never blogged about it, so I think she may have wanted to keep it a secret... don't tell, ok?) And my sister-in-law swears by the classes. She's a leggy blonde with zero inhibitions (and that's sober).
After Monday night's "Intro to Pole" bit, I've decided I might do better in class if I came with my hair "Victoria Secreted Out," red lipstick and a boob job... either that or a tranquilizer. You've really got to own your feminine wiles in there. I mostly owned a bruise on my inner thigh from mis-shooting a 'spin' (yes, they teach you that your first night!). But I'm sure it will come.
One of my favorite parts of the class is how the instructor kept referring to our ta-ta's as "the sisters." It saddened me that my sisters had relocated south for the winter and had made no indication they were ever coming back.
Danny says it doesn't seem like I liked it. I mean, I did, It's just not what I was expecting. I mean, they literally teach you to dance on a pole. (I know right, like what else would 'pole dancing' be?) But for some reason I wasn't expecting the blatant references to dollar-bill tips and 'only getting hundreds.' Sure I thought the whole bar-dancing thing was tacitly implied, but not blatantly expressed. They're really teaching a skill-set here, people.
It's like a vocational school for exotic body movement (and I'm not talking about the kind with bongo drums and the phrase 'interpretive' they use on So You Think You Can Dance.)
The ridiculous truth is that I think I actually want to be good at this. I don't know what for (I've never been a good dancer). And it's not like I've got a fireman's pole in my house to just practice/show off on. But I get so competitive with things. Like it's a skill I really ought to have in my back pocket? So I can change my facebook bio to something more like this:
Enjoys parenting her adorable and spirited toddler Holden, saving the planet, barefoot running, triathalons*, yoga and pole dancing (not necessarily in that order.)
*PS. Tri went great on Saturday. Details coming soon... mostly when I can figure out how to piece the video footage together. And yes, that makes 2 triathlons in 12 years. I am practically a triathlete - no?