Thursday, January 25, 2007

confessions of a wannabe stripper

I'm official hooked. I have found my calling in life or at least my passion since 'calling' denotes I have a talent for pole dancing and that, my friends, is FAR from true. I still cannot get myself around the pole in any sort of fashion close to graceful, much less sexy. Mainly I just hold on for dear life and in three seconds find myself on the floor in pretzel formation.

The bruises I'm developing all over my legs I wear as battle scars. I keep adding new ones each week which provides a nice array of all different colors, shapes and sizes to grace my uber white "canvases," if you will. These battle scars are evidence that I will stop at nothing to officially execute one damn trick.

This class remains the funnest yet most humiliating hour of my week, but my hope is that eventually I will get it. I am convinced, even if it takes months, that I will finally have my A-HA moment and I will understand how to work with the pole instead of against it. For now, I'm going to watch this video and daydream that its me. I kind of look like Kate Moss, right?

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