Hello Dancing Ladies in the Pink!!

I am well into my second level of S Factor and let me tell you, it’s getting hard. More tricks than Houdini, more challenges than a marathon. Okay, maybe I am exaggerating a tad. But it definitely feels like we are learning new stuff at a rapid pace. Just when I think I barely have the Firefly down, we are told to try to learn it on the opposite side. Ambidextrous pole dancing? But why oh why? “So we can be strong on both sides,” the instructor says. Oh.

Today is class 5 in the series of 8. And we are tempting a MAJOR feat today – CLIMBING UP THE POLE. Until now, we have twirled on the pole, slid down on the pole and walked around the pole. But now it is time to climb the tree like a monkey and go wild. Where is Tarzan when you need him? I’m a city girl, not Jane of the Jungle. I can’t even remember the last time I climbed something. I do recall climbing a knotted rope in grade school for gym class. It was tough then and I was a whole lot younger and thinner. Oh boy.

Plus, this week, I feel particularly lethargic as I just spent two nights of drinking and eating in celebration of my sister’s birthday. Cake, wine, gourmet food, champagne, cake, wine. Ugh. It sure was fun but as I look down at my gut protruding out over my sexy booty shorts in S Factor class, I am feeling less sex goddess, more beached whale. But I shall overcome.

One of the girls in the class is so scared of the climbing part. She has been nervous all week. Frankly, I hadn’t even thought about it (denial and I are good friends). But now in class, staring at the pole like something I need to conquer, I’m a bit queasy. I try to make light of the situation by saying that perhaps we could just put a ladder in our routine. Maybe I could be a French maid dusting the pole at the top and then BAM! I jump on that pole and work my way down. Problem solved. No pole climbing involved. The girls laugh. I tell them I was seriously considering bringing a helmet. Landing on my head is very possible on the way down. We look at the top of the pole. It’s about 12 feet high. It may as well be a skyscraper.

I tell the ladies that all we can do is try. If we don’t do it, we don’t. You can’t fail in this class, that’s what is nice.

We do our usual pole work. Firefly, Ballerina, Peter Pan, Half Pint etc. Then, we each get spotted by our instructor on climbing the pole. The ladies actually do quite well and the one who was really nervous did just fine! See, nothing to worry about. Then, it’s my turn. I put my foot against the pole as instructed and hike myself up grabbing the pole with my knees and putting my other foot behind the left one. Okay, I’m about 3 feet off the ground. I look up. It is a long way up. I do as the instructor says and put my hands up again and pull my body up, like an inchworm. I am huffing and puffing like an obese woman after a mild jog. I instantly think of military training. This must be what it feels like. Not so fun. I get almost to the top (which is what most of us did – no need to go crazy) and I try to come down prancing my feet, grabbing the pole with my thighs. Ouch, that chafes. A lot.

I get down and realize that I will definitely have black and blues – on my inside thigh, on the top of my foot where I clenched my legs like a vice. The top of my left foot is pulsing it hurts so much.

We try one more time and I get up again with equal effort. I again try to come down in a sexy, stripper-ish way but I am not good at this so instead, my thighs make a farting noise as they slide down the pole. Oh yeah, that’s hot. No wonder they play the music so loud in the routines!

The ladies and I are laughing so hard comparing notes. Everyone is exhausted and already sore. But we are elated that we were able to do it. Another notch in our stripper garter belt! We are ready for naps when the instructor tells us to put on our shoes. WHAT?! We still have to do our routine even after all that? We do it half-heartedly. Most of us are a bit shaky on our feet. But at least, for me, I’m too tired to care. I actually do the routine pretty well considering that we really worked ourselves today.

I get home and put on my tennis stuff. I had agreed to play tennis with the husband even though I knew I would be tired from class. But I really did not know I would be this tired. Still, I know he wants to play and I am still feeling Orca-esque from the gorging I did the past few days. We head to the courts. And, I am proud to say, that even after a tiring 2-hour S Factor class, I still was able to beat my husband in tennis.

Life is good.