Pilates on a pole

Looking at me, my mother started to laugh.

I am certain nothing I do surprises mum anymore, however I do obviously provide her with a sense of enjoyment and a seriously good laugh. "So that's when men stuff notes down your g-string?", she asks, not stopping to wait for me to answer. "You will be able to get some of your debts paid off".

She looks at me, laughter erupting again, wiping tears, which had formed from this source of amusement, from her eyes. "Although you don't really have anything for them to look at, now if it was your sister...".

My foray into the realms of pole dancing was greeted with laughter and a critical-mother (as only they know how)-evaluation of my (lack of) success at this adventure.

The opportunity to learn to pole dance came about when the studio opened a venue close to where I live. My gym buddy excitedly emailed me with the news. We had been intending to go for a girl's night out at one of the other studios where you are shown the basics over champagne and chocolates. However, as often is the case, due to this person not being able to make this night, and that person not being able to make the alternative suggested night, then holidays, the girl's night never eventuated.

Determined that we were going to be pole dancers when we grew up, I checked out the website. "Pilates on a pole", "cheekiness", "femininity", "fitness", "fun", "confidence" were some of the descriptions which greeted me. I downloaded the timetable and information and emailed my friend the details and the date that we would be starting.

Lessons booked ... the fun to begin.

P Day arrives. Excitement bubbles over as I arrive at the deep fuscia pink studio, with black silk adorned chandeliers.

Introduced to the friendly instructor, I choose one of the brass poles. My friend arrives late and chooses a pole at the other end of the class, however we are both in eye shot of each other ... danger for when the giggles arise.

We start the class off with warm up moves. Toosh stuck right out, hips gyrate in a circular movement one way and then the other, squats with frantic bobs up and down, pole clasped sliding up and down.

Next warm up, abs. Images of a rich chocolate bath, as legs kick in and out seductively, falling into a false sense of ease, as this was followed by scissor kicks and jack knives, I'm thankful at this stage for my pilates classes, as the torture with this continued routine would have been felt.

Before we are shown how to walk seductively, we need to learn how to crawl. Out on all fours, prowling like lionesses, looking for "hubby's socks" or vacuuming under the sofa" never looked so sexy. Giggling as we are all on the floor moving forward theatrically.

The different steps to move gracefully, teasingly, from the floor to standing are practised as are the different ways to walk seductively, cheekily, as we traipse around the dance floor, following each other in a circle with over-exaggerated moves and more giggles.

Onto pole moves.

How to move around the pole, facing it, twirling so our back is against it, facing it again practised. Then before we are aware of what is to come, we are expected to twirl seductively down the pole. Silence... Intently watching the steps to the twirling motion. Ok, not so bad perhaps. right leg around pole, toosh pushed out, hips forward and push with left leg... I slide ungracefully straight down the pole, my legs a tangled mess on the floor... ok not quite the success, or look I was hoping for. I look around the class, phew not the only one... we practice the move over and over again, until finally success, I can twirl down the pole. Now to twirl in the opposite direction. More practice, more twirls, more giggles.

The evening finishing off with putting all the moves we have learnt into the beginnings of a choreographed act. Next week can't come soon enough!