Tales of a pole-dancing feminist

I was a high-school feminist

As I write this, my inner thighs are bruised, my underarm muscles (who knew they exist?) are sore, and I’ve skinned the top of my left foot. These reminders of yesterday’s dance session, my first in two months, are uncomfortable, but I’m glad they’re there.  They’ve helped me get back inside my own body.

Image These are just some of the locations and causes of pole dance bruises.

When I left my house for dance yesterday, I wasn’t feeling great. I knew I’d lost a lot of strength, since I had been away and not working out (I really REALLY hate to exercise outside of dance classes) for a while. Usually, my frustration with myself for my laziness quickly turns into determination to do better. However, this time the frustration felt like defeat. I eyed the pole warily as I warmed up, doubting that my muscles would remember what to do…

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