When I put Pole Dancing as #2 on my List of 57 in 52 (57 things/challenges/fears/desires to accomplish in 52 weeks… from my 57th birthday on October 6th ’til next October 6th ), I did so as with great trepidation. I mean… well, facing my fears of flying and heights with skydiving on my 57th birthday (item #1 on my List) paled in comparison to walking into a Pole Dancing class at 57 years old. First, I can’t dance. Oh, I do dance. But I can’t dance all smooth and rhythmic. Never mind sensually. I have never been described as sensual. Believe me. Facing my fears took on a whole new meaning because I had signed up for 6 classes in this session. No, it wouldn’t be just one dive and done!
But. But. But. Pole Dancing has turned into something I absolutely love. I look forward to my class each Tuesday night in that safe little studio with the multiple poles and soft lights and worn hardwood floors that you imagine would be in a dance studio. I showed up the first week in sensible gym shorts and socks and sneakers… but have s-l-o-w-l-y learned to actually enjoy the freedom of something a bit less. I have graduated to a little skort kind of thing, but I’m on to bootie shorts next week. Yep. You heard me right. Bootie shorts, as in pretty up and close to the bootie. What I have discovered is that each girl appreciates her body shape and size and image… and we are all different, but all alike. We are women. And stepping out of our comfort zones together make us more women than I ever imagined. I have come to know that my un-dancing feet can and will connect with my body and my arms and my hands… it just takes the confidence to do so.
Confidence. In movement. In learning. In failing and trying again. In facing the giant mirror and enjoying what you see. Even at 57.
And wearing THE BOOTS! Yes, I got myself THE BOOTS. The POLE DANCING BOOTS! And as it turns out, these boots fit like a woman on a mission… just perfectly!
Who could have known?