Express The Sensual

Once upon a time…

…there was a beautiful and vivacious woman, although she didn’t usually think so, who was diligently folding the laundry.  It was late, the house was fairly quiet and she was enjoying the time alone, even if she was stuck doing a few domestic chores.

As she slid her fingers across a soft silk bra, one of her favorite songs began to play on the radio.  The deep and luscious beat was hypnotic, seeming to beg her hips to move.

She looked around, smiling at the guilty thoughts playing across her mind, and gave in to the music. Slowly, slowly, allowing her hips to shift and tilt, turn and grind, circle and shake. She let the laundry drop from her hands and brushed her fingers through her hair. Such softness, such a tingle as she soothed the pressure points along her skull and caressed her lovely cheeks.

Suddenly she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror, and stopped. Surprised by the sensual smile on her own lips, the sexy curve of her hips, the acceptance of her self in her own eyes. She considered stopping, wonderding what would happen if someone caught her in such a precarious position.  But the song pushed through her senses, it’s beat too infectious to ignore and she let the mirror’s vision slide from her sight.

Realizing she was simply too warm, she found her fingers tugging at her clothes, pulling down the edges of her pants, lifting the straps of her tank top.  Everything seemed to tickle her, the smooth cotton surrounding her, holding her too tightly.  She needed to move freely, uncontrolled, unconstrained, completely released from emotional and physical boundaries. She knew she had to decide between dancing and clothing, and it was simply to late to stop.  First the shirt, slid over her head and shoulders.  And then the pants, bit by bit, fell from her undulating hips. The air tickled along her exposed skin and a welcome sigh escaped her lips.

When her legs began to shake from such playful exertions, she fell backwards onto the bed.  Her feet dangled, then swung from side to side, and finally kicked in a happy tantrum, feeding off the passion of the singer’s voice. The sheets were soft and easy to slide along as she rolled and twisted, moving slowly, deliberately, yet giving in to the emotions curling through her mind. She wondered again, how sensual her lips might look, lying on the bed with her tush in the air.  She decided a peek at herself wouldn’t hurt and looked over her shoulder at the mirror again.

The sight that greeted her almost brought tears.  Her body glistened; glowed with vitality and the feminine form.  Every curve melded seamlessly, sensually into the next with an easy grace– even the ones she had never liked before. For once, her body seemed happy, her mind content with the sight of herself, without needless worry, without misplaced shame.  Perfect and whole as she’d always been without having to change a thing.

She sighed as the song released it’s final notes and winked at her own reflection. Letting the memory of her movement, her honest beauty, her sensuality be captured and held.  She finally understood that she was truly sexy, and vowed to remember this fact today and every day after.  Perhaps all that she needed was to dance naked…. right after she finished the laundry.

A Call To Action

I invite you to discover your own hidden dancer.  The one you hide from while you do the laundry or get ready for bed.  Forget about the pole, forget about special clothes, forget about everything but the song and the feeling of being in your body, in your breath, in this exact moment.  You don’t need anything special, except your amazing self, perfect and whole exactly as you are.

Sexy is a realization, a state of mind that you are amazing just as you are. Simply choose a song and let the music infect you with it’s passion.  Or better yet, use a song to transform your body into pure emotion.  Let creativity, truth, and sensuality be your guide.  Let go of your worries for the length of just one song and you’ll soon see that they will never be as important, as alive as you are when you dance with your whole self.

Give in to passion, give in to life, give in to love…. and you may soon find yourself dancing naked.

Just try it, even if it takes a glass or two of wine.  I dare you to Dance (almost) Naked and rediscover how surprisingly sexy you really are. Please share your anonymous and not-so-anonymous thoughts in the comments.

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Twirl, Swirl, and Fly!

I was reading an article from my sweet friend Poleskivvies about how posting videos to Youtube has made her suddenly body conscious and feeling the need for therapy. And I felt compelled to plunk my big ass down on the therapy couch right next to her.

Jennifer says…

“God, how I hate telling you this. Why? Because it’s a body image thing. And I’m supposed to be over that. I’m supposed to be all confident in how I look and never have a weak moment about it. Yea, right.”

Now, you all know how much I love my ass.  I talk about it all the time.  How it used to be bigger, and now it’s a bit smaller, but still rather curvy.  And I freaking love how it makes me feel like a real woman.  Sometimes I even wax poetic about it (although I usually keep most of my ass poems to myself).  But I want to share how I feel about my ass (and my body) when I make a video.  The process goes something like this…

[before making the video]
Yeah! I’m going to make a video tonight.  I’m so excited.  I’ve got my camera and lighting set up.  And a new playlist to help me fly around that pole.  Ready, Set, Go!

[while making the video]
I’m dancing and I don’t care if there’s a camera over there.  Fuck that camera.  I don’t have to post this.  This is for me.

[after making the video]
ooh, that felt so awesome. I can’t wait to watch it.  I want to watch it NOW.

[2 seconds after starting to watch the video]
Jeez.  Why didn’t somebody tell me that I suck.  I mean, seriously, look at my butt.  How many freaking biscuits did I have to eat over the holidays to make my ass look so damn huge.  And that invert was awful.  Dammit.  I knew I wasn’t doing enough ab work lately.  I hate my abs!  They look so mushy.  ugh.  I can’t post this shit.  Forget it.  I’m never making another video again.

At this point in the process, I pretty much hate everything I see

I usually roll my eyes, stand up from my desk in a huff, and go take a shower to calm me down and clean off the sweat from (what I thought before I saw the video) was a great pole session.

And then epiphany, self realization, I kill the Buddha

After the shower, I realize that I just spent 2 hours dancing, flying, twirling, and whirling.  That it felt pretty damn good to challenge myself.  That I love being creative, even if it means messing up an old trick because I’m trying to do something new.  And that I’m definitely going to do all that awesome shit again, because I’m totally fucking addicted to playing on a 9 foot tall metal pole. This is when I watch the video a second time.

[after the epiphany]
Hey, I love the way I transitioned from that new spin into an invert.  I want to practice smoothing that out.  Hmm, I might want to add some more lat and shoulder strengthening moves into my workout to help me accomplish that move.  Damn I love how legwarmers make my thighs look thinner.  Ooh, I got a bit racy at the end when I took my tank top off.  I’d rather cut that part and keep it in the private vault.

A bunch of learning happens

Not everything makes it to the videos I post.  In fact, I have (literally) years worth of video that will never, ever, see the light of a computer monitor because I feel self conscious about my body.  But I love the immediate feedback I get when I watch these videos.  I can use these videos to fix things, discover new movements, and decide how to keep moving my pole dancing practice forward.

But I still have doubts and fears.  Doubts I don’t always talk about, fears I don’t always show.

Society says I’m “supposed” to be a strong woman and maintain a positive body image at all times.  But can I really trust such a conflicting message from a society where a supermodel can be fired by Ralph Loren because she isn’t a size 0 and doesn’t fit into their clothes anymore? Where almost every picture, ad, and poster of a woman we see is colorized, fixed, slimmed, and retouched?

The more playful I become in my pole dancing (and my life) the more I realize that every “should,” every “supposed to,” every “rule” society lays on me is total crap. I’ve lately decided to start testing all these “rules,” sometimes tentatively, sometimes ruthlessly.  I keep the ones that fit around my womanly curves and chuck the ones that don’t.

Rules I’m Chucking

1. I have to make myself beautiful everyday, all day long CHUCKED for (Every woman is beautiful and has the right to look like a Raggedy Ann doll if the situation or her sleep schedule calls for it)
2. I have to be a strong, successful, business woman that kicks ass all day long CHUCKED for (Many woman feel the strongest when they recognize & celebrate what some people might define as weaknesses including wanting to be a mother who takes care of a couple of kiddies instead of kicking ass at work. I certainly do.)
3. I must prove that I’m as good as any man CHUCKED for (No woman has to play a man’s game to be phenomenal.  She doesn’t have to prove her womanhood because she already has the cookie.  No baking required)

So, if you’d like to play along, and chuck a few of society’s rules too, then please join Poleskivvies and me on the Therapy Couch by dancing around on video (or maybe just in your living room) and testing your boundaries…

Because, as Jennifer puts it “Feeling ugly is just too damn exhausting.”

To which I’d like to add “Fuck Yeah!”

How do you deal with your own body image? What Rules are you ready to chuck? Share your ideas in the comment section!

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Twirl, Swirl, and Fly!