I think I may have finally recovered from the hangover that was The Pink Pony. Over all, it was lots of fun. I feel less weird about the men in my life going now. Those ladies are businesswomen, and I have to respect that.
The dancers really ran the gamut of skill, which I expected. A few were very impressive - absolutely amazing on the pole. Others were slightly less entertaining than a compost pile. It makes me wonder what the requirements are for working there. Clearly, some of the dancers take it more seriously than others - There to do their jobs and go home, which I can't blame them for. There were definitely some mega-pervs gazing straight into some of the dancer's crotches.
We showered the ones that wowed us with cash, and they came over to chat after their stints on stage. Some really seemed to appreciate our interest in the technical aspects of their work. Elegant pole work didn't seem to pay the bills, however. I got the impression that some of the ladies were more skilled than they let on, and simply resorted to ass jiggling because it's what pulled in the cash.
After a few drinks, I was ready to give up my life in a cube and hit the pole. I don't mind being naked, and I LOVE dancing. And, oh, the shoes! However, I have to assume that reality is very different that what I saw. My few minutes in the ladies' restroom/strippers' locker room probably did not paint an accurate picture. Otherwise, I would know more strippers, right?
My genius idea for a hangover cure the next morning was a huge egg breakfast followed by my very first Jiggle It class. Maybe one or the other would have worked. In concert, they were cruel and unusual punishment.
Jiggle It was phenomenal, though. An intense work-out, for sure, but so fun I barely noticed I was Lamaze breathing. Having grown up a white girl in the rural South, I was not born jiggling. This will certainly add filler to my routines, and if it can do for my lower body what pole has done for my upper body, I will be one happy camper.
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