I can feel my own body. That's the best way I can describe the ache in my shoulders, the stiffness in my legs, and the inherent strain in lifting my arms above my head. This is all a result of me uttering the phrase, "You know, I don't have anything going on. I think I will help you install your pole."
We belly dancers put up a constant battle to stress that our dancing is an art form, and is in no way connected to exotic dancing or stripping. Granted that doesn't mean we oppose the more scandalous dances completely. For example my friend, Elena, went to a free pole dancing demo class a few months ago & got so hooked that she not only ended up taking the eight week course, but also ordering her very own pole. And holy cow, those things aren't cheap! $370 for a giant adjustable pole that we wedged between her ceiling and floor in her apartment's living room.
Elena tried to teach me the basic mechanics of the art of the pole. You have to walk around once or twice to get your momentum going, swing your leg around the pole, grab on with your other hand and let gravity take over. Sounds easy enough, but then there are the little details like where you put your weight, how you position the non-pole leg, and the volume of your scream as you collapse to the floor.
Today my arms are out of commission from grasping at the large piece of metal for dear life. I believe I now have a new found respect for pole dancers everywhere.
Yeah. There's me. And then there's the REAL dancers. I don't think I will ever have the muscle it takes to do some of those moves. By the way, cool little factoid about the shoes. Not just for looks. The extra height gives shorter dancers a step up on the pole & more space to slide down.