One RU Student's path to fitness.
original print : 12/9/08
It seems like a lifetime since I started on my odyssey of fitness and self-improvement; I've been at this since May. There's been a lot of blood, tears and Gatorade for me this year, but through it all I found myself bored. The only thing that changed in my fitness routine was that time I had less to work out.Because of work, classes and ,of course the glorious paper you hold in your hands (or read on-line), fitness had taken a back seat.
I found my self bored and lacking inspiration. I was waking up in the morning, throwing on a work out DVD going to class, going to work then going to the gym if I had the time to spare. I bet you yawned reading that sentence, imagine that as your life for 3 months.
I consider myself a resourceful woman, and when I see a problem I like to attack it directly. I didn't want my boredom to give way to lethargy. I needed to shake up my fitness routine. I wanted something fun, something that would make me feel good as well as look good.
Like most of life's problems YouTube solved this one, I noticed a video attached to one of mine that I never noticed before. It was call Miss Pole Dance Australia 2006, in it a small red haired Aussie performed Cirque De Soleil like feats of acrobatics, flexibility and strength. I was mesmerized. It was right then I knew what I had to do. I needed to learn the art of the pole.
I'm not the first woman to come to this conclusion. Since the beginning of the sexual revolution women have been reclaiming "erotic" arts as their own. Practicing these acts help women to enjoy their bodies without having to sexually gratify a man or feel degraded. There's no reason that a woman should feel ashamed just because she's moving her body. She should feel strong confident and beautiful.
Hungry for that feeling I looked for a studio in Newark to no avail, not to be discouraged I found a studio that could be easily reached using the Path train. One block away from the 33rd street path station lies, Exotic Dance Central, a cozy inviting studio that welcomes " the everyday woman".
On their website, ExoticDanceCenter.com they boast that they're "NYC's number one pole and exotic dance central" and I don't argue with them. I've never seen dance studio with a martini bar. If my high school ballet studio had one I might have never hung up my toe shoes.
The Erotic Dance Center offers a 2hr pole dancing intensive lesson for 60 dollars. It seemed like a steal because the only other 3 studios that offered pole dancing charged that or more for just one hour. I figured with my strong background in dance and frugal leanings this was where I belonged.
Of course, I did modern, lyrical and jazz dance. If dance were Greek city-states, ballet would be Athens, and pole dancing would be Sparta - not historically accurate Sparta , but 8-pack-sporting-panty-wearing- Frank Miller- Sparta. A gravity defying full body work out.
Exotic Dance Central's website lets you book and pay for classes online, so I made sure to book the first available intensive after Thanksgiving, -- if there's ever a time you need an intense workout its after ingesting 5 different types of pies.
The website tells you what you can and cannot wear, I was happy to see that I needed stiletto heels that are least 3 inches high. Finally, my two favorite things were coming together, "f" me shoes and fitness. I was far less happy to read I had to wear a tank top; I usually have an issue showing my flab in public, or at least well-lit places. Luckily for me and other shy women, the classes are female only.
The class was small only 12 people including our friendly instructor Alieesah. The chorus line was full of interesting people, save myself. Before we started the workout Alieesah asked each of us what brought us to the class. I felt horribly shy for some reason, and mumble something about being a special event dancer.
A bad joke, sadly weddings and bat mitzvahs are the only special events in which I'm able to dance.
I found that one of the ladies was a bride-to-be and brought three of her friends along to kick off her bachelorette party. There were a group of ladies that actually looked like they stepped out of Greek lore; they were fitness instructors looking to bring pole fitness to their gym. I tried not to look at my gut every time they flexed their abs. There was a woman who had just came from Israel, and served in the army, next to her was a woman whose husband was due home from Afghanistan and she was looking for a special welcome home.
This interesting cast of women were all sitting on yoga mats waiting to feel the burn and having no idea what was coming to them. It was a strange calm, we all sat barefoot listening to the soothing music from our instructor's Ipod. She led us through a nice warm up, stretching each portion of ourselves. If it weren't for the cold steal of the pole touching my ankle when I stretched in second position on the floor, I would have forgotten that I was in a pole dance studio and not a ballet one. Barefoot , limber and sweaty I felt in my element.
That feeling fled once it was time to meet the pole. Alieesah began to talk about "pole burn" , the nickname for the friction between your skin and the pole. It is every bit as uncomfortable as it sounds. My first introduction to this sensation was during our first pole exercise. I was instructed to grab the pole well above my head, grasp tightly and lift my legs off the ground. Sounds easy to you? Well then you are not a portly young lady with the upper body strength of a dead quadriplegic.
As I gripped with all my might and tried to keep my legs up, I could feel my skin and the pole going to war, and the pole was winning. It was an odd feeling, I had to chose between my skin being stretched or being "that fat girl that fell during pole dancing class" every time that bride to the story of her last outing as a single woman.
I refused; I held on to that pole with all my might, unfortunately gravity was mightier.
Tumbles aside, I found myself having fun, especially at the one hour mark of the class when I got to put on my 6.5 inch heels. It was kind of cool being 6'3 and a half. While it was hard for me to get past the controlled chaos that is swinging on the pole, I had fun strutting around and feeling … surprisingly sexy albeit the most clumsy unattractive brand of Sexy, akin maybe to the No Frills section of Pathmark.
Pole dancing is hard, and there really is no way around it. It's a shame that most of the people that excel at this skill are only rewarded with sweaty crumbled bills. What they deserve is applause and flowers; sadly that's not the case, yet. Feminist protest aside, any workout than can turn a fat ass into six feet-three-inches and 250 pounds of walking sex piled on top of itself has to be worth looking into.
For More Information or to have a pole adventure of your own go to ExoticDanceCentral.com
© Copyright 2009 Observer
No comments:
Post a Comment