New year, new me? Hell no! I’m fine as I am, thank you. New year, new experience though…? Now you’re talking!
If you had said to me 5 or 6 years ago that on 7th January 2020 I would be attending a pole dancing class, wearing short shorts, with a couple of girls I hardly know, I would have laughed in your face. No way could 32 year old me conceive that 38 year old me would have that kind of confidence, or at least the right kind of fake it til you make it attitude. But apparently I do…
Tonight, along with a couple of girls from salsa (who I know a whole lot better now!), I went along to a pole dancing taster class in Bedminster, Bristol. 360 Pole Dancing‘s studio is tucked away in a warehouse type building down a street I had never really noticed before. I was nervous – I always get that way with new places, new people – so I was glad to be going along with someone I could get lost and make mistakes with. As soon as we got in the building I saw another trio of nervous looking girls, and soon more arrived. I was probably the oldest in the group, but that didn’t bother me. The things I was most scared of were not being physically able to do anything… and getting my legs out.
The website said to wear shorts, and I was relieved to see everyone was. In fact, the teachers were simply wearing knickers. I tried to avoid direct eye contact with the mirrors (and the teacher’s stunning arse) and summoned my inner mermaid, then soon realised no one gave a shit about my wobbly thighs.
I’m not going to lie, it wasn’t easy. And there were moves I didn’t quite have the strength for (yet). But you know what? It was awesome fun! We ran through some of the starter moves, wrapping ourselves round the pole from various angles and attempting to leave the ground. In one of the more advanced moves the teacher seemingly levitated as though she had employed some kind of witchcraft, whilst I struggled just to cross my legs around the pole and grip on with my thighs without smashing into my lady parts too much. We learnt how to get up gracefully (ish!) from the floor, arse first of course, and even did a little bit of sexy sliding about on the floor (I was reminded of the ‘sexy worm’ move we once created in a bachata dance class some years ago when practicing body rolls against the wall…). With a little assistance, I even did one incredible spin, which made me feel like a goddess, and I will hold on to that slightly rose-tinted memory as inspiration for the weeks to come.
Yes, you heard me right. I’ve signed up for a 6 week course. Why not? It was incredible fun, a great workout, and hopefully something that will help to build my strength – both physical and mental.
Have you tried anything new yet this year? Go on… give it a go! 😉
Find out more about 360 Pole Dancing on their website, Facebook and Instagram. This post is not sponsored – I just like to shout about cool, local businesses and all the great stuff there is to do in Bristol.
I went for a run today. That might not seem particularly remarkable – after all, I started the year with a 5k Park Run. But it took a lot to get me out of the house today, and I nearly used every excuse in the book to persuade myself to stay home.
It was raining, which would have been a brilliant excuse not to go out for a run. But that wasn’t even the half of it. Today was about the fear of looking stupid, of people looking at me and thinking “god what does she think she’s doing?”. Because I still don’t see myself as a fit person who can stick on a pair of running shoes and a pair of leggings and go out for a run. But I am, so I did.
I ran 4 miles (6.4km), which is the furthest I’ve ever run to date. I took my time, I stopped to take a couple of photos, and I didn’t push my speed. Today wasn’t about running fast, it was just about running.
And it felt great. It was a challenge, without being too difficult, and I can honestly say I enjoyed the experience of running outside in public. One of the unexpected highlights for me was smiling at other runners. I hadn’t realised that was a thing, but it was like we were all part of some secret running club. All winning at life because we chose the run over the sofa on a soggy Saturday afternoon.
Running is a great way to exercise the body and mind. I find it very therapeutic to put on some good tunes and just run. It clears the mind, and it makes you feel good. I’m ready to take on the world now!
Today’s running soundtrack was Paloma Faith’s latest album, The Architect. Finding the right music is important I think, and this album really works for me! What music do you run to?
A bunch of pink, sweaty women, writhing around in a school gym on a Tuesday night – what must we look like? Every week (well, almost every week – you know, unless there’s an offer of something better to do) we gather to shake our booty to the Latin-inspired beats of what is known as “Zumba“.
We wiggle, we shake… we even try to shimmy. The toned and tanned instructor smoothly moves from dance step to dance step, encouraging us to be sexy. Sexy? In an exercise class? Yes. We’re supposed to be sexy women, proud of our bodies, shaking our butts and sticking out our boobs. Calling out to imaginary men to come and dance with us.
We try. In our minds, we all aspire to look something like this:
In reality, we actually look more like this:
The class is entirely female, although men are welcome. Men do do Zumba, but not here. Our class is made up largely of middle-aged women – some younger, some older. There are certain stereotypes you will find in every exercise class. There’s the ever-so-keen one who always arrives first and stakes her place at the front, chatting with the instructor. Self-tan woman, who is an interesting shade of orange. Awkward girl, whose body is really stiff and robotic. The older lady, whose boobs occasionally brush the floor. And me – the hopelessly uncoordinated yet still enthusiastic one.
I generally stand somewhere around the middle, but to the side so I can dash out for water when I start choking on my own sweat. I try to watch the instructor and ignore everyone else around me. I try to “dance”, rather than “exercise”. I try to forget aerobics classes and think salsa, merengue, hip hop. I try to “zuumbaaaah” but, being British, I do find all the shouting and “yee hah”s a bit much.
Still, at least I earn my dinner on a Tuesday night.