Sexy Science

Jun 13, 2015 by

          “I saw your climbing thing,” one of my coworkers said when I got into work on Monday.

          “You did?” I beamed.

          “Yeah, and I was watching, thinking, I could do that!”

          I smirked, knowing firsthand what learning to climb a pole entails.

          “But then I thought, how would I get down?” he wondered.

          “You slide down,” I laughed.

          “Doesn’t that hurt your skin?”

          “You don’t even feel it after a while,” I assured with a nonchalant flick of my hand.

          “So what you’re saying is, suck it up.”

          “Yeah,” I nodded with a grin.

          “Well, that was impressive,” he told me.

          “Aw, thanks friend!” I smiled.

          When I got to the studio later that day, I relayed the conversation to some of my pole friends.

          “See? Now you get to tell people to suck it up,” the studio owner said in reference to the many times I’ve been told by her and my other instructors to fight the pain.

          “Right?” I laughed, wondering when that happened.

          “Can you believe we’ve been doing this for five months?” my pole partner said as we warmed up together.

          “What?” I responded, counting from the beginning of January to the beginning of June on my fingers to confirm. “How did that happen so fast?”

          “We’ve made so much progress!” she noted.

          Aside from what I’ve learned over the past five months and the confidence boost I needed that I got, just as valuable are the friends I’ve made. Our conversations say it all:

          “How much does the fabric pinch your skin without pants?” I asked before aerial.

          My pole partner, who did aerial in shorts a few weeks earlier, widened her eyes and raised her eyebrows, which was answer enough.

          “You forgot your pants?” the studio owner asked.

          “Yeah, I left my leggings at home. The only pants I have are the ones I wore to the gym this morning, so I’m like, shorts or dirty pants?”

          “Dirty pants,” they answered in unison.

          “Always dirty pants,” my pole partner reiterated.

          While later taking off those dirty pants between aerial and pole, grateful that I was about to be relieved of their gross stench, I noticed that the smell was actually coming from the shorts I was wearing underneath. Ugh, brass, I realized.

          “Do you guys ever leave here smelling like brass?” I asked the girls at the two poles nearest me.

          “Yes!” they answered together.

          “It’s on my hands even after I wash them!” one said.

          “Yeah!” I exclaimed. “And my shorts! And my underwear! Ladies, I swear my cooch smells like brass.”

          They laughed.

          “Which isn’t that big of a deal now,” I went on, “because I don’t have a boyfriend. But what am I supposed to do when I’m in a relationship? Last night, my bed smelled like brass!”

          “He can deal with it.”

          “Oh no, no, no, no,” I waved my finger from left to right. “When I go down on a guy, I don’t have to smell brass. He shouldn’t have to either.”

          “Oh my God!” they burst into more laughter.

          Coincidently related, we were being instructed (in reference to a cradle spin, but who needs context?), “If your head goes down, your hips come up. It’s science!”

          “Science,” I repeated in amusement.

          “Sexy science!” our instructor stated.

Happiness Tip: Friends make friends laugh.

 
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