It was when I was at university that I first learnt this particular fact about myself. Our task was to write a musical. Now writing a musical is easy enough for students study performing arts, you would think. So as a group we wrote said musical, a short and comical piece we were all fairly proud off (ish!!). This musical was set in a lap dancing club (think Miss Saigon esq, or so we thought) and it required us to choreograph a rather provocative dance routine. No problem. So as we got into character, strutting our stuff, leg warmers and all, believing we were the kids from FAME! a fellow student looked at me, declaring in front of my group that I ‘wasn’t sexy’. A fatal blow for any girl and aspiring performer! As I picked up my bottom lip and self esteem from my jazz shoes I realised that she wasn’t wrong. This wasn’t a reflection of my acting abilities but something definitely lacking inside me. As I travelled through my twenties I came to terms with my lack of sexiness and accepted I had a stylish look or a funky look or as more commonly seen on me, a dragged through the hedge backwards look! I feel content that as I head into to my thirties I am who I am and I have achieved what I wanted to, all without sexiness. So when my friend Miss N suggested pole dancing was the latest weight loss craze and she would love to have a go, I fully supported her. It was as we were talking and I was secretly admiring her confidence that I realised I wouldn’t mind going with her and trying this new fitness craze out (anything to shed those inches!!). After browsing the web and finding a fab deal, I found myself fully signed up to pole dancing classes and face to face with an old anxiety, I wasn’t sexy.
As the day of the class loomed closer, this anxiety began to rise. Images of size 0 women, doing perfect spins, oozing sexiness haunted me, knowing I would never achieve this Holy Grail. All I could see was an image of myself looking like Winnie the Pooh hugging his honey pot – not sexy! On the actual day in a last ditch attempt to tone and sculpt myself into a super model I went for a run, did an hour of yoga and spent much of the afternoon shaving, exfoliating and moisturising my stumpy little legs. The shear horror of leaving the house in tiny shorts (required for the class) was enough to send me running for the nearest cake but I persevered and made it down the drive to the car with Miss N in tow. As I drove there I was slightly relieved that Miss N was also feeling a little apprehensive and as we giggled at ourselves I began to relax a little. Once there, signed in and warmed up we were shown to our pole by the instructor, who was very lovely. There was only 3 of us to the pole and as I looked round at Miss N and the other student both of whom I was sharing with, I quickly established I had drawn a short straw. Typical me, I had chosen to share the pole with 2 6ft Amazonian goddesses, both with fabulous long legs, one of whom is my very good friend!! Great for the old self esteem! The instructor had us straight on the pole, showing us moves I would have said were impossible for me to do. However, nearly an hour into the class I had not only gotten my feet off the ground, I had twirled, spun and high kicked myself proud. Not bad for a beginner who has a shameful lack of upper body strength. Meanwhile the 2 long legged goddesses had long mastered that and also managed to looked lean and elegant, something I am yet to achieve! When the class came to an end and we headed out to the car neither Miss N nor I could walk, THE PAIN!! But more than the pain was the giggles and laughter. I think I can say for both of us that we had never had so much fun exercising. I finally understand these insane people who claim exercises realise endorphins. Pole dancing really does. Feeling high on endorphins we are now fully signed up to carrying on learning to pole dance!
As I sat in the bath later that night, soaking my super aching joints and bruised legs, I reflected on my feelings and the anxiety the class had originally raised. As women do we ever truly feel sexy? Or is sexy an image the media sells us? An image that’s good at making us feel inadequate if we can’t work 40 hrs a week, look after our families, cook organic food from scratch and get that promotion all whilst looking like an Agent Provocateur ad? So no, pole dancing hasn’t made me feel sexy, it’s given me something better. It’s given me laughter with a good friend, a sense of achievement and an immense sense of pride that I had the confidence to have a go. What more could a girl ask for?
xX
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