So, in a way, this whole blog
came about because of pole-dancing. Well, the idea of pole-dancing. As a form of
exercise, not as a profession. (Not that I'm judging or anything.
Because that would be wrong.)
I'm rambling. Let me start over.
Last week, I met up with some friends from high
school, most of whom I hadn't seen in years. As we were discussing the
goings-on of our daily lives, one person mentioned how she had started taking
some pole-dancing lessons, a fun and effective way of staying fit.
Naturally, I was intrigued (though a bit upset to learn that the classes
did NOT include getting to wear sparkly, sequined costumes). But again I
digress.
My first thought, after my lamentation over the
absence of the aforementioned sparkly number, was that the image of me trying
to shimmy up a pole would not only be horrifyingly dangerous, but also insanely
hilarious. Athletic and/or coordinated, I am not. This, of course,
led me to my second thought, which was that trying something like this, whether
it be pole-dancing, underwater basket-weaving, sky-diving, etc., would make excellent
writing material, especially for the comedic gold it would no doubt supply.
As an aspiring writer, I was ecstatic. How could I possibly go
wrong? I would go out and try a myriad of different activities, gaining
life experience in the process, and then come home and blog about my many
foibles, occasionally offering a nugget or two of advice on how (not) to do
things.
