Why I’m Spinning on a Pole

Jan 13, 2015 by

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          As of last week, I’ve been waking up to soreness in at least one of (but usually more than one of) the following: my arms, legs, ass, back, abs, and fingers. (Yes, it seems that even fingers have workable muscles. I just found out too.) Some mornings, it’s so intense that I have that post-sex, just-got-hit-by-a-truck feeling – minus the sex. I love it! It makes me feel accomplished. Given that I’m getting this satisfying pain without a guy between my thighs – though that would be fucking great (Oh! Unintentional pun! I love those!) – you may be wondering what I’m doing to my body. To the two ladies who I know will read this hoping I’ve finally done as they’ve been encouraging, sorry, but I am still a sex-toy virgin. My legs are wrapping only a pole.

          That’s right, friends, I’m finally trying pole dancing! You may now be wondering what I mean by “finally,” because a quick search of my entire blog would show no prior use of the term pole dancing, let alone my interest it. Let me explain. Last May, through friends/the guy who was my first kiss in the rain, I met a girl who pole dances. She invited me to come to a class with her, but she had to reschedule and we never set another date. Fast-forward to October in Paris. While walking through Marais, I sometimes passed a dance centre, which brought pole dancing back to mind. Thanks to Google, I found that I lived just one arrondissement away from the closest pole dance studio. Because I wasn’t able to make local calls from my cell phone, I sent an email requesting class information. After a few days without a response, I walked to the location. Unexpectedly, one arrondissement away translated to one hour on foot. (I may have gotten lost at a roundabout, as I got lost at most roundabouts in Paris.) When I arrived at the address indicated on the website, there was no pole dance studio to be found, so I put the idea to rest until my return home. In November, when I got home, I decided I’d wait until I have a job to justify the cost.

          Two Sundays ago, that decision lost validity. I was having an I’m-terrified-I’ll-never-have-a-boyfriend day, during which I resolved to start actively working my confidence back up. Though still present, it’s not as high as it was. I unintentionally relinquished some of it by letting my unreciprocated feelings for a guy have their way with my sense of security. Now, I want the rest of my spirit back. In first act of reclaim, I signed up for a one-month, no-commitment membership at a pole dance and fitness studio the next day. Because I’m new, it only cost me $100.57, including tax, for one month of unlimited classes. For a much-needed confidence boost, I think that’s an excellent price, even for the unemployed. Plus, a hundred bucks is nothing, considering the thousands I saved by coming home from Europe early.

          While pole dancing is known to improve confidence through body appreciation and sensual movement, I’m primarily after the holistic boost that comes from trying anything new – not that I’m not hoping to learn to smoothly circle my hips (an ongoing life struggle of mine). My self-esteem thrives off my assurance in my abilities to engage in new activities and meet new people, yet I haven’t done much of either while coping with my feelings. I’ve tended toward my routine pleasures (foodie adventures, travel, etc.) within my already established friendships. When trying to get over someone, that’s just easier than constantly testing limits. Now, I’m bored of easy. It’s time to get back to the very foundation of The Happiness Experiment. It’s time for trial and error. It’s time to determine what makes me happy now. Essentially, I’m pole dancing to remind myself that my happiness relies on me. If my future boyfriend reaps some of the benefits (re: potentially smooth hip circles), bonus.

Happiness Tip: Experiment to see what works.

 
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  1. The Beginning of the End of the Night - Press Play Pro - […] one of my first pole dancing classes – oh, P.S. I’ve been trying pole dancing! Guys, the next time…

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