On a completely different and more upbeat note than my last post, how about a little striptease story-time?
Whaaaaaaaaaaat?!?! Oh yes.
It all began last November when my girls and I (my friends not my boobs, well my boobs too, and their boobs) ... okay, so when ALL of the girls celebrated my birthday by taking a private pole dancing class at a cute, classy, sexy, totally fem dance fitness studio called Express MiE.
As a pleasant consequence, I was placed on a list to receive creative email blasts describing upcoming classes, fitness schedules, workshops, special events, etc. I longingly read through them, wishing I had the time and money to return and attend on a regular basis. Well, well, well, wouldn't you know it ... the stars aligned and a one time Lingerie League: Striptease Workshop beckoned me to sign up. Learn a routine that starts while wearing a sweatshirt and jeans and ends sporting a sports jersey and panties (boyshorts - no thongs, they said). Not sure why I would do this since I don't have a man in my life, but thought hey, God-willing I might someday, plus, I need an escape from the Exhausting Details of life right now.
So the story begins to undress, er ... unfold, sorry, unfold ...
It was a (hot) Monday evening in August. After work, school and soccer practice, I was eating homemade breakfast burritos for dinner with my kids (never have time in our rushed morning routine to make them as an actual breakfast entree), and I explained that I would be going to a 'fitness' class at 7pm. They are used to me occasionally going to a boot camp at 530pm so my son asks, 'Why so late?' Uh ... it's a different sort of dance workout. Yeah...
I quickly finished the dishes, lined the children out on homework/bedtime and went to change clothes. I am a thong girl and I love my vast array of thongs (TMI?) but in anticipation of this workshop, I had already taken my free panty coupon to Victoria's Secret to purchase more coverage, per the studio's request and for the benefit of the strangers I would be in class with. Figured with this wordy selection (see photo), if some move was demonstrated that I wasn't feelin', I could just flash my thoughts.
Boyshorts, check. Jeans, check. Denver Broncos sweatshirt, check. Sports jersey. Hold up. Sports jersey. Um, that would be an item I needed to borrow from my 14 year-old son's closet. These are the times when I'm thankful his chin is glued to his chest looking his phone. Grabbed the jersey, shoved it in a bag and headed to the car, assuming I would get asked why I'm wearing jeans and sandals to work out. Goodbye kids, love you! Whew. They didn't ask.
Fast forward one hour. I'm in a room with 30+ women reppin' all ages and body types, laughing, cheering and casually gettin' our sexy on. Terms like Naughty Grind, Milkshake Swirl, Crosswalk Peel and Bootieful It Up filled the air as our fabulous instructor taught us the 'chick flick' routine. Thankfully, when she told us to find a bestie (since there were no men allowed) who we would perform for and on (!), I saw the only other lady in a Broncos jersey sitting with no partner. Score! Well, no scoring in the jersey, just a shimmy. Oh geez, nevermind. Turns out she borrowed the jersey from her 32 year-old son. We were obviously meant to strip together that evening. Yes, I just wrote that and you just read it. Anyway...
As I arrived back home, my daughter was already asleep, but my son greeted me in the garage. Of course his first question was, 'Mom, why did you wear jeans?' I replied, 'Oh, I have other clothes in the bag...' (that I somehow need to unsuspectingly return to your closet).
Good times, I tell you. Good times.
PS Not everyone would feel comfortable or agree with doing this based on past and present experiences and that's okay! Personal convictions are real. My goal was to have fun, and I certainly did.