I’m sure that when my mother birthed me, she never imagined that one day I would be donning stiletto heels spinning and dancing around a pole. Luckily for her, that will never happen — outside the classroom anyway.
No, this wasn’t my debut at an amateur stripper’s night. In my quest to try new things, I decided to try my hand at pole dancing at a pole dance aerobics class.
Among the many new exercise fads, pole dance aerobics is probably one of the more controversial. But the classes have become increasingly popular among women of all ages. Studios have been popping up across the nation, and late-night infomercials are even selling self-install poles for the true pole dancing addict.
Even though I was going with a friend, I was struck with extreme embarrassment at the thought of parading myself around a pole.
That intimidation didn’t go away when the clerk handed me the six-inch stiletto heels I was informed I’d have to wear while dancing.
They were a face plant and ankle break waiting to happen.
Luckily for me, though, there weren’t any experienced pole dancers in the class.
The class was made up of mostly young, college-aged women trying their hand at something new, fun and kind of sexy.
The room had a pole for each of the 10 or so women attending and mirrors surrounding the room, leaving nowhere to hide from my own image.
The class started off with some mild stretching, and I didn’t feel so pathetic when I realized I wasn’t the only one barely managing a few girly push-ups.
But when it was time to slip on the heels for our first dance, I was pretty pathetic.
Stumbling to my pole and holding on for dear life, I started my first dance routine.
The teacher did a good job of making everyone feel confident and sexy, even though we felt ridiculous and uncoordinated.
“Just dance for yourself. Unless of course you want to dance for somebody else,” she continuously reiterated. It’s not like we had anyone to impress.
There are no rules or limits to pole dancing like there are in other forms of dance.
“All you need to know is point your toes and stick your booty out,” the teacher said.
The spinning-around-the-pole part required a surprising amount of upper-body strength and courage. Since I have neither, I had paralyzed myself with a death grip around the pole in fear of breaking a bone.
But once I could finally walk in my heels without holding onto the pole, I grew more confident in my dancing abilities.
As I swung my legs around the pole for what my teacher called “the sexy fireman spin” for the last time, I really did feel sexy.
The thought disappeared momentarily when I fell to the floor, but the confident feeling lasted.
I may not be hitting the Vegas circuit anytime soon, but pole dance aerobics has proven to me that exercise can be fun. And pole dancing with grown women is as liberating as it is amusing.
But it still may remain the taboo for mothers across America.
“Where have you been?” my mother asked when I returned home.
“Um … mole rancing,” I muttered, running upstairs.