in case I can't type tomorrow
Today I went to the gym for a lower body workout with my trainer.
I am leaving that first sentence in as a reminder to everyone the importance of saying what you're writing inside your head before committing it to the page.
Anyway, after said workout, I met up with my cousins and we went to a friend's house for a workout of a different kind. A workout that is one-part trendy and all-parts sexy - two things I tend to avoid (the first by choice, the second by the sheer reality of how I was made): pole dancing.
I've known this trend has been going around, and I haven't held it against people as I do the workouts that require three easy payments of $39.95 and come with fourteen free videos that so many suckers fall victim to. Still, I never thought it would be for me.
But hey, I'm in a new (albeit old) place, I need to get out of the house, I'm trying to get in shape - and I'm desperate for girl time. So red wine and pole dancing? Sign me up.
You know what? It was fun! I attempted to sit and watch and stoically drink my wine in the beginning, but after my cousin who has two metal rods fused to her entire spine (due to an insane case of scoliosis when she was in high school) started twirling around effortlessly, I had to give it a try. The great thing about pole dancing? If you have two left feet, it doesn't matter - you're feet aren't even on the ground! Sure, there are other things to hang you up - hand placement, the less-than-comfortable friction caused when tender skin meets cold metal under the entire weight of your body - but in the moments when you manage to spin around just so, you discover a grace you didn't know you had. Hell, it's more than grace - it's a sense that if a certain someone was in the room, it wouldn't matter in the least that you're wearing a sweaty sports bra and ugly running shorts.
I tell you this, I've never walked away from a weight machine with that feeling. Now I just need to see if I can handle the leg bruises that are sure to show up tomorrow, and the potential of what someone tonight referred to as "inner thigh callouses." Talk about killing the sexy.
I am leaving that first sentence in as a reminder to everyone the importance of saying what you're writing inside your head before committing it to the page.
Anyway, after said workout, I met up with my cousins and we went to a friend's house for a workout of a different kind. A workout that is one-part trendy and all-parts sexy - two things I tend to avoid (the first by choice, the second by the sheer reality of how I was made): pole dancing.
I've known this trend has been going around, and I haven't held it against people as I do the workouts that require three easy payments of $39.95 and come with fourteen free videos that so many suckers fall victim to. Still, I never thought it would be for me.
But hey, I'm in a new (albeit old) place, I need to get out of the house, I'm trying to get in shape - and I'm desperate for girl time. So red wine and pole dancing? Sign me up.
You know what? It was fun! I attempted to sit and watch and stoically drink my wine in the beginning, but after my cousin who has two metal rods fused to her entire spine (due to an insane case of scoliosis when she was in high school) started twirling around effortlessly, I had to give it a try. The great thing about pole dancing? If you have two left feet, it doesn't matter - you're feet aren't even on the ground! Sure, there are other things to hang you up - hand placement, the less-than-comfortable friction caused when tender skin meets cold metal under the entire weight of your body - but in the moments when you manage to spin around just so, you discover a grace you didn't know you had. Hell, it's more than grace - it's a sense that if a certain someone was in the room, it wouldn't matter in the least that you're wearing a sweaty sports bra and ugly running shorts.
I tell you this, I've never walked away from a weight machine with that feeling. Now I just need to see if I can handle the leg bruises that are sure to show up tomorrow, and the potential of what someone tonight referred to as "inner thigh callouses." Talk about killing the sexy.
Labels: live a little
posted by Mood Indigo at 10:16 PM
10 Comments:
You took pole dancing from taboo to graceful and poetic to causing inner thigh calluses.
That was an emotional roller coaster.
Rad. There's a Sheila Kelley S Factor school near my house. I think that if I was more comfortable with my body I would go take a pole dancing class. But apparently, I've got it backwards, Pole Dancing is how you get in shape/get comfortable with your body. Good to know.
OH I'm sure that the inner thigh callouses will be dismissed when you tell the boys that it's from pole dancing!
The idea of inner thigh callouses scares me more than a little. But other than that it sounds really fun!
Peter - and this was my exact experience during the workout :)
Saraleigh - you should do it - it's completely fun and I guarantee it's not about how your body looks!
Airam - I don't know, I'm not sure I could get past callouses anywhere but on the feet and the fingers (guitar) myself!
Lisa - You and me both!
Wow that sounds like fun. The inner thigh callouses would be my downfall.
I agree with Airam. If you could ever chalk and injury/scar/bruise up to the statement, "Oh that...I got it while I was pole dancing," you will instantly capture everyone's attention.
I just want to tell you that one of my colleagues was talking at our conference about pole dancing. And I said, "Aren't you the one who was just telling me about inner thigh callouses?" As soon as it was out of my mouth and I saw the wtf? look on her face I remembered exactly where I had heard about it. Oops.
Good on you. More people should try things for fun and the sheer new experience. Open mindedness never hurt anyone like an inner thigh callus, but then again, who is really looking. ;)
pole-dancing is trendy? goodness gracious. i think i'm going to get a tongue-callous from biting it here...
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