decota

Under L. Marie

Mission Im-Pole-sible

My body is very pissed at me right now. My right bicep, left triceps, ribs, abs, hands and ankles are especially angered. Day one of Mission: Pole Nymph hath ended not so bad. But day after Day one and the day after that (today), hath ended in all my pole dancing muscles punishing me for their torture at my first pole dancing class.

I have bruises on the top of my right foot, on the inside and outside of my left ankle and it hurts the palms of my hands when I make a fist. But I didnt break anything and I didnt end up with my go-go boot up my ass. However there is still time for that later on in classes to come.

I was amazed at how hard that shit was. I was picturing myself excelling immediately. Twirling from the top all spread-eagle like a pro. But like most things in life, I looked better in my imagination then in front of the dance studio mirror at Allure Pole Dancing. My biggest problem being, that my stupid palms were sweating and I was sliding down the pole way too fast to look any form of good.

Not to mention that I couldnt keep my arms straight while spinning, bringing my body closer to the pole thus decreasing my wind resistance and increasing my centrifugal force. I made way too many turns round my brass dance partner and ended up with intense vertigo and had to take a little break so as not to puke. Now what I want to know is how the hell do Strippers pull that shit off drunk and coked up, as we all know how they very much are under the influence of at least two shelves worth of pharmaceuticals, liquor and blow.

There were a few things I didnt totally suck at. I did one helluva Sexy Push-up. One starts on their knees, walks their hands slightly forward, making sure that tits make contact with floor and ass is high in the air. As one makes their way down a single leg, toe pointed, rises into the air and then do the whole motion reverse to get back up. I also looked quite graceful doing my pirouettes around the pole. But again if I did too many in a row I got all puke-y feeling.

I looked OK doing the Dragon Fly spin. A basic spinning pole move where you circumnavigate in an Indian-style like position of the legs. But any variation involving only one leg on the pole and I just looked like a flailing jack-ass. I did a killer Windmill on the floor with my legs and a pretty decent Butt-shaking sexy-dance thing on the pole that didnt involve spinning or lifting my own body more then a foot off the ground.

There were ten girls in class altogether. All shapes, sizes and colors. The instructor of course was a very fit Miss Pole Dancer 2007. And much like many instructors made the maneuvers look so easy even a non-athletic-retard could do it. But we all know that wasnt the fucking case now was it. I looked around in the mirror and much to my grand self-absorbed and achievement-hungry self I did not suck the most nor look the most pathetic. I was a mid-range flailing mess.

But there was this one tall blonde Russian gazelle who I was tempted to throw money at. What the fuck was she doing in the Pole Virgin level class making the remaining nine of us look bad? I overheard a conversation she was having with the instructor before class, I really thing you move up a level.

Really? You Shink so? she said in her Roosky accent.

Yeah I think youre ready for some harder stuff.

Vonderful! I cant vait!

Then at the end of class this somewhat-non-flailing-pole-virgin asked, So how long has she been taking this class? Pointing to the gazelle.

Hmm two months maybe? Miss Pole Dancer 2007 replied. And she comes, what two to three times a week? Right?

Which gives me hope. If that oh-so-stripper-esque-Roosky wasnt a ballerina before this class, then perhaps my dream of spinning, waxing and sexy-push-up-ing my way to singing in a shower of Washingtons isnt so far away.