I ran home and got on the phone, desperately trying to talk one of my church girlfriends into going with me.  She laughed and, in no uncertain terms, told me I was whacked.  I now had a decision to make...finish my household chores like 99.9% of the women in this valley or feed my fierceness.  I chose the latter (I hate folding whites anyway)!  I went upstairs to pick out my pole dancing "outfit".  In my exercise wear drawer, I found brightly colored leotards and leg warmers....remember those?  I decided on some black yoga pants and a snug fitting top.  Black is so slimming, ya know and off I went. 

I was fully expecting to be in the room with all these 6-ft amazons with perfect bodies and beautiful outfits.  I was prepared to hear their talk of just getting off from their all night shift at the gentlemens clubs in the "big city".  Dude...the place was full of soccer moms, working women, large and small, young and old...WHERE were the dancers????  After a great warm up, the instructor (the only obvious dancer in the room) turned the lights down real low and turned the music up real loud.  You couldn't help but move to it.  As I watched these women, some novices like me, negotiate the poles, I relaxed and started feeling the music.  When it was my turn, the instructor showed me a couple of simple moves and I was off.  Because I had something to hold on to (THE POLE), I could close my eyes.  First I heard the music and then felt the beat...my body started to move in ways it had never moved before.  It was an amazing cathartic feeling.  Then I heard something else..perhaps what working pole dancers hear on a nightly basis...hootin' and hollerin' sounds...but not from men who paid a cover charge...no, from the soccer moms.  They were cheering me on!!!

As I surveyed the body damage the next day:  pancake sized bruises on my inner thighs from swinging around the poles; a half moon shaped bruise on my arm from jumping up the pole and sliding down; and (my favorite) bruises on my knees from learning how to crawl from pole to pole...I decided the injuries were acceptable and I would return to the poles for more.  Great work out for me, the middle aged civil servant...priceless play time for my inner goddess.  Try it, you'll adore it!

NOTE:  This blog was written a couple of years ago.  I was reminded of it this weekend when, as a more "veteran singular", I went out with some girlfriends of mine who were newly singled.  I remember how timid I used to be to try new things, dive into the social world (that included men), move out of my comfort zone, etc.  It truly made my heart sing to watch these gals "step out" and re-discover how fabulous they are!