Thirteen years ago I agreed to attend a pole dancing class with a couple of friends. The info sheet we were provided with told us that bare thighs were best in order to grip the pole, so we should wear either hot pants or a mini skirt. Given I’m not Kylie Minogue, my collection of hot pants was non-existent and the shortest skirt I had was just above my knees. That tiered, linen skirt would have to do.
When I arrived I found a room in the basement of a bar, with four poles and a room full of women in hot pants. O…..K. So I tucked the sides of my skirt into my knickers and quickly realised I had not thought this situation through at all.
The instructor (pictured) went through what we’d cover in the class, then got us started on the most intense warm up I’ve ever had the misfortune to participate in.
First we had to form a line, run around the room, grabbing each pole and swinging around on it, then keep running. Next, we had to lay down on the floor, stick our legs in the air, then spread them, then snap them together. Repeat. This was followed by legs in the air and rolling them back until our toes touched the floor behind our heads. It was during that move that I was afflicted with an acute wedgie. I apologised to the room. We repeated the move. I apologised again. I would apologise a lot that night. At one point I tried tying the skirt between my legs but this gave me a linen penis that almost ended up inside me the first time I leapt onto the pole.
The instructor then asked us to split into four groups and for each group to gather around a pole. She told us that having some thigh fat is good because it means you can grip the pole better. I said if that was true then I should be able to stay up on the pole for about a week. She laughed. None of the hot pants did. She also said that if we fall, and we would most likely fall, to fall sexy. I asked for further clarification. Apparently if you fall, you should drop like a piece of silk and give a sexy wink. I asked for a demonstration of this and the instructor faked a fall, fell gracefully from the pole, pushed her chest out and turned her head slightly as she gave a slow motion wink.
When it was my turn, I found I was actually more of a gynmast than I realised and could grip the pole with just my thighs, so I leaned back, arms outstretched...and this is when I fell, flat on my back. There was a collective gasp from my group, possibly because they were concerned for my back but probably because the bottom of my skirt was now up around my neck. I sat up slowly, shook my head in slow motion, gagging on hair stuck in my mouth and winked like Uncle Bob offering you a snag at a family bbq. As I stood up, I suggested the group take notes because I’d pretty much perfected sexy.
This was how the class went for two hours, me flashing my group, apologising for them having to see my anus and generally being the antithesis of sexy. When I got home and undressed, I saw all of the welts and bruises on my thighs. The next morning I woke up and could barely move, every part of my body was screaming in pain.
In conclusion: I tried sexy. It wasn’t for me.
Completely unrelated: I'm single.