kitsgal

Stripping 101

Lately, every one in my life is becoming a stripper. Over the past year, I have known three gals who gave up the dream of becoming an office manager, a lead barista and a corporate attorney to become a stripper. I am not sure why stripping has become so popular. Perhaps it is due to the insane amount of money to be made, the success of Pamela Anderson or those suggestive Snoop Dog videos. It is hard to say really.

Just to be clear, Kitsgals are not strippers; though some of them look like they could be.

Frankly, I was a bit shocked when my seemingly normal doctor friend, Jessica, suggested we take a drop in stripping class. I would think that as a doctor she would have seen enough nudity in her day job but, apparently, she got fed up with seeing everyone else naked and wanted to take part in the action. As for me, well, she dared me; and we all know that I do stupid, stupid things when I am dared. (See My First Triathlon for background)

Prior to class, we spent an inordinate amount of time picking our stripper names. Jessica was to be known as Cinnamon Buns and I would be known as Pop Tart. (We were hungry when we thought of the names.)

We arrived at the class early, and expected to see a whole pile of skanks and skank wanna-bes (we weren’t really sure which category we fell into – perhaps skanks in training?), Instead, the class was full of about 30 or so regular looking gals who all dreamed of dancing in a Kanye West video.

Everyone was dressed in normal workout gear. I think this was due to the warning the receptionist gave when you called to pre-register for the class – you must wear sweat pants or, as a novice, you will get stuck to the pole. No one wanted to experience or to explain that kind of burn.

The instructor, Mandy, was super petite (in all areas except one – insert your visuals here) and super perky (insert your visuals here). She introduced herself as Miss Pole Dancer of the Universe 2005 and assured us that she was indeed a real stripper. This was important to me. If I am paying my hard earned $10 drop in fee, I want to ensure that I have a genuine stripper teaching me. I didn’t want a stripper substitute.

Mandy won my heart right off the bat when she gave each of us a spray bottle with disinfectant and insisted that we clean our poles. Sometimes my hypochondria is under control; other times it is not. Given that I am scared to touch the stability poles on a bus, I was for sure afraid to touch a pole that gals have swung their Pussy Cat Dolls all over. I spent the next 45 minutes cleaning my pole.

Mandy started the class with a demo. She swirled and curled so much around the pole; I would swear she was part python. And she did it in 10-inch heels. Wow.

Then it was our turn. Mandy guided us along step by step.

Step 1: Make friends with your pole.

I guess given how intimate I would become with the pole, it makes sense to get to know the pole on a personal level.

“Hello Pole! My name’s Maggie. So, do you come here often?”

Step 2: Learn to walk around your pole.

I began this section with my usual clumping walk around the pole. That was wrong. My walk can be described as less sexy and more “there is a chance I could have polio” style of clumping. Mandy tried to show me how to move more seductively by thinking sexy thoughts. I continued on – clump, Matt Damon, clump, George Clooney, clump, Why was Ocean’s 13 such a boring movie with so many hot guys in it – it makes no sense – I mean just write a good script for Heaven’s sake…clump, clump, clump….hmmmm…not working…

Step 3: Swing around the pole.

This was the part I was looking forward to the most. I like swinging, spinning and going fast. I was keen to learn how to whip around the pole like some super sexy Cirque du Soleil circus freak. Mandy began her explanation.

“Okay. Now this is really easy. Grab onto the pole at a 45 degree angle.” Okay, so far so good. “Place your right leg at a 90 degree angle from the pole.” Sure. “Take your left foot and form the shape of an acute angle triangle.” Which one is an acute angle triangle again? “Next, pretend your leg is a protractor.” Wait!!!! “Swing your left foot in the shape of a rhombus.” Stop with all the math references!!! “Create a trapezoid momentum using the vector of the gravitational pull of the Pythagorean theorem followed by the spontaneous trajectory of the beta waves….” Ahhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I was lost. My hopes of whipping around the pole were being crushed. Who knew stripping required a math degree. I had visions of being a stripping school drop out – what would that look like on my resume? I waited for Mandy to come around and help me. She put it in easier terms for me. “Maggie, just swing around the pole.”

And with that, I was swinging around a pole like a chimp on meth. It was fun!!

The class ended and I must say it was a good workout. I have a newfound respect for strippers. It takes a lot of strength and a lot of math skills to do the job properly. Next year, if I need my taxes done, I am calling a stripper. Pop tart out.