I’ve been dangling from poles a while now, so no doubt some progress is to be expected.
Despite emerging from winter and the quaffing of some excellent red blends, the waistline has not suffered to the extent it did in previous years. I was only absent from pole class for a week, due to annoying tonsillitis diagnosed on the fly by cell phone light in a public bathroom. The public bathroom felt more private for me after the initial command to to “Stick it out!” in the middle of a mall, by my friend, a medic. Due to euphoria induced by steroids (used as an immune suppressant to treat my allergies and arrest my tonsillitis) – I’m convinced, I forgot my pole kit at home – and took the plunge of purchasing a delightful cropped two piece. Shock shock – more than brief public (half) nakedness. No honestly, this was only my second kit purchase after returning to slum it out in short sports shorts and my usual gym vests, following the acquisition of my first outfit.
I do research related to health and weight, so I have a very good sense of where I officially fit on the spectrum, and have been fortunate enough to have had my metabolism slow down masked by even weight gain. Popping on a crop top and some shorts and not being taken aback at the sight is quite some progress. As it’s begun to warm up recently, I’ve put on prettier shirts and swapped the cords for leggings in the course of ordinary life. The feel of my clothing confused me. The scale still says mean things to me, but I know my clothes are fitting better – the pants at least. The secretaries at work were kind enough to compliment me, but one of my colleagues warned less subtly that my pants were falling off me. To explain my confusion, while my pants fit better – I can’t roll up the arms of my shirts, and they’ve been feeling a bit tight around my back and chest. I wouldn’t be unhappy with some breast expansion, had it not been for the fear of overheating if I can’t adjust the length of my sleeves on the go.
I consulted with another friend of mine, who puts her forearms to impressive use, mounting boulders with incredible talent, who confirmed what I’d feared…I can expect my muscles to develop with use. Who’d have thought?! I clutched my left fore-arm, fearing that I’d turn into a lopsided leprechaun. The discrepancy was less troubling than I’d imagined. I thought to myself, it’s a good thing I’ve returned to Pilates – to get these muscles trained proportionally.
What motivated me to return to Pilates is the cultivation of balanced strength to support my development at pole dancing, because strength training is essential for continuing progress. As explained in my bio – while my right side seems to be under my control – my left side often feels alien, and I feel more equipped to work both sides of my body at Pilates. In pole class, I endeavour to do all my moves on both sides of my body, with varying success on each side, and this has become problematic, because my left leg is sometimes better than my left arm at tricks, and this leads to problems coordinating transitions.
Learning to invert was an incredibly frustrating process for me, and when finally it came together after months of building strength the sense of achievement was phenomenal. To be told a month or so later that even inversion needs to be mastered on both sides came as quite a challenge and in every session I attempt to connect with the pole upside down, but on the opposite side – sadly, no success as yet, but I persevere.
Last Friday I was out at bar with some friends of mine. A bunch of louts, drunken, affectionate and rather heavy, kept alternating between manhandling each other and hugging. This prehistoric behaviour would be of little concern if there wasn’t a real risk of one of these individuals knocking our drinks over, or much worse landing on our table. A friend kept delicately replacing the intruding body parts of one such individual, to little effect. Eventually, the moment I feared arose, and a large drunk toppled in our direction. I gripped his waist from behind with some ferocity and pushed him upright. He yanked my hand and whipped around to face me, ready to fling a punch in my direction, but stopped dead in his tracks. Shocked when he realised that a girl had lifted him, single handedly, at the waist, much to the amusement of my friends, it led to the following exchange.
Incredulous Drunk: “You have a man sized grip on you…I can’t believe you’re a girl.”
Indignant Miss Turq: “You almost fell on top of me, what did you expect?”
Incredulous Drunk: “I’m so sorry, where did you get that grip?”
Forthright Miss Turq:”I pole dance”
Apologetic Incredulous Drunk: “So so so so so so so sorry, can I buy you a drink?”
Honest Miss Turq: “No, no thanks, just avoid landing on us.”
Seems these muscles might come in handy…
Ladies Who Pole 