Recently I made a comment on a friend’s Facebook page referencing my pole dancing, as I often do, it’s become a joke among friends.  I received a response from a man I do not know about “how had he never met me” and it made me think, do some people actually think I am serious???   Let’s look at the definition of pole dancing for a minute and see if any part of it could actually pertain to me.  Pole dancing: erotic dancing that involves swinging around a fixed pole.   Erotic – nope.  Dancing – not by the true sense of the word.  Swinging – um dizzily falling maybe. If I ever were to get swinging my breasts could potentially tie themselves in knots.  Fixed pole – germs, germs, germs.  Not to mention the whole concept pretty much defies gravity for me.  If some miracle ever allowed me to get both feet off of the ground and onto a pole, let’s not even think about the parts of my body that would be sagging and scraping the ground.  Bad visual right there.

Let’s further debunk this myth.  Those of you that don’t really know me or haven’t seen me in a while probably picture this really fit woman walking around in a sports bra and spandex with rock hard abs right?  That is pretty much what you would need to look like to work a pole, right?  I’m pretty close but not quite there.  So let’s address those that have actually seen me recently.  Do I really look fit or coordinated enough to swing what God gave me around a pole?   Let’s put it this way, last week I was in Lululemon and asked the sales woman if they sold clothes for people like me and she did not have to think twice about whether I meant the pole dancing type.   I walked out with a nice comfy pair of joggers that happened to be a size 8 and it was a good day.  Not a pole dancing kind of day but a needing only one seat on an airplane kind of day.  I’m not 100% sure I could even hold myself up on a pole even if I was standing on a ladder next to one.  I tried once but slipped when I had to take one hand off to reach for another donut.

Now here’s the big debunker of the “Stephanie’s a pole dancer” myth.  The be all, end all, even if I were fit and coordinated and my breasts stayed where they were supposed to, reason why I would never find myself on a pole,  I am a huge germaphobe.  Let’s think for a minute what kind of germs would be on a pole.  I use a gallon of Purell after touching a railing on an escalator and women’s no-no zones aren’t typically sliding on that railing.  Can you imagine the coma-like shock I would slip into if I actually had to touch a used pole where others zones have slid?  Do they clean those poles?  Are there people that use Wet Ones to wipe them down between pole swinging sessions?  Can you bring your own pole or have a sign designating whose pole is whose?  So unless that pole was brand new you will never see my bad self saunter over to a pole and screeeeccchhhh down it.