Scratch that, we went to a pole dancing class. Because we had a BuyWithMe coupon ($20 for a $40 lesson). And as my roommate, Laser, can attest — I can’t pass up a good coupon deal.
The instructions we received were to:
- wear clothing that made you feel sexy
- wear high, non-pointy, heels
- bring water to rehydrate
- bring an open mind and have fun
Before we set off for our 12:00-1:30 pm class, my friend and I went to a bar and each had 2 shots of tequila. Because we weren’t entirely sure what we had gotten into. And because I (heart) tequila and don’t really need an excuse to drink at 10:30 am.
Upon walking into the studio, one of the instructors said, “Oh good, you’re just in time for the demonstration.” Demo?!
We walked in and sat ourselves on the floor only to see a man dressed as a US Postal Worker in a chair and our instructor, Wendy, gearing up to perform what appeared to be a lapdance.
Sidenote: Wendy is about 40 and looks like Natalie Portman’s mom in “Garden State.” Even if you haven’t seen it (or have blocked it out…haters), trust me when I say she’s not some 19-year-old toothpick with a taut stomach and gravity-defying DDD breasts. No, Wendy has an everywoman body with small boobs, average waist, and bigger thighs. She was dressed in a white lacy tanktop, gold sequined bra, and short white skirt, finished off with L.A. Gear-looking sneakers and scrunched socks. And yet, she was strangely alluring.
Later we found out she is the author of both “The Complete Idiot’s Guide to Exotic and Pole Dancing” and “The Deaths of Popes.” Turns out, she had pole danced her way through grad school earning a degree in medieval history.
As the music started, Wendy snapped into stripper mode. She bent over slightly in front of the mailman, humped the ground, and generally just enjoyed being a cocktease. As she hungrily crawled toward him, she told us, “Men are dumb. You may think your thighs are huge, but men are dumb. If you grab your thighs and run a finger down your leg as if ‘oooh my thighs are so sexy’ they’ll believe you. It’s all just an act.”
Despite my overactive imagination, that this older man was a fellow stripper friend who was instructing a room full of awkward men next door, I was informed by the girl next to me that he was in fact Wendy’s actual mailman who rode up in the elevator before the class started as he was delivering mail. Turns out, this happens every. single. Saturday. And then he continues delivering mail to the rest of the neighborhood.
When the lapdance ended, she gave us a pole dance and cued us on when we were supposed to clap (*hint* it’s when she did something amazing like going upside down on the pole). Then she showed us the some basic pole moves and watched the hilarity unfold as we all tried to duplicate them. Like baby giraffes on ice.
Although I was initially intimidated by the idea of swinging around the pole sans any upper body strength, I was surprisingly…agile for a mid-sized, sedan of a girl. My friends, not ones to fluff the egos when something horrendous goes down, said I was actually kind of good.
At least now when I tell people, “If I lose my job and have to resort to a career change, I’ll pole dance before I wait tables again,” I can follow it up with, “yes, I’ve tried both and I can honestly say I’m better as a pole dancer than I am as a waitress.”
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