Lessons from the Pole

Today one of my co-residents told me a story ( I know you weren’t expecting that from the title but trust this warm up sets the mood). It was about an older friend of hers who thought she would get ready properly before her pap smear- if you haven’t noted from previous posts-I’m a doctor. The older lady properly groomed ( thank you baby Jesus), bathed ( can I get an Amen), and used a spray deodorant ( side eye- quick way to get an irritant dermatitis where you DO NOT want irritant dermatitis). When she got to the physician and disrobed he commented “festive” upon seeing her vagina… When she got home she realized that she accidentally used glitter hairspray instead of the spray deodorant… Yep, marinate on that a minute- I’m BAAAAACK (say it like the drunk in Independence Day when he saved the world by giving it up the ass to the aliens)

I’m sorry I Left You Without a Dope Beat to Step To

But getting to the point of this post: Lessons I am learning from the pole: here is lesson number 1: OWN YOUR VAGINA. I am currently drinking red wine out of a plastic stemless wineglass that is halloween-themed with frosted skull and bones. I bought these originally planning on sending them along with a care package that included candy, lotion, tums, and other haloweeen-themed goodness to my ex-boyfriend. FYI I’m the one with the halloween birthday. Buying presents for your boyfriend on your birthday is NOT an example of owning your vagina. However, drinking out of a skull and bones plastic cup like a classy BIYATCH is.

I don’t expect this to be a lesson anyone picks up immediately. I mean, I am finally at the point where I can order pad kee mow without chomping my way bitterly through it!

Shout out to eat 24 and Santa Barbara Winery for my late night ramblings this time around. And my mother, and my sister- who told me to write again. It feels like stretching a muscle I have not used in years. Like the first time in the diet you are forcing down salad with no dressing, like yoga after a long blissful break where you are only happy you paid for the overpriced classes because you got some comfy overpriced fatty pants out of it. I feel like that moment where your instructor is telling you to be glad you have taken this moment out for yourself and all I can think is I CANNOT TOUCH MY TOES!!!! I think this is why I have moved on o pole dancing instead. I can have a ‘Fuck it all day’ and still be sexy, I can cry my way through the warm up and still be comforted, I can wear every piece of clothing in my wardrobe that is too small/tight/glittery/loud for public consumption but makes me feel yummy.

Tuesday in pole my teacher randomly ( or randomly to me because I was not paying attention to what happened before this) yelled “OWN that BIKINI WAX!” to a fellow student. At which point I began a serious discussion with a neighbor whether or not the girl had actually just gotten a new wax or was my teacher referencing the fact that pole sits feel a lot like bikini waxes. I started thinking then- and now- about whether or not it is time for me to revisit that particular brand of torture myself while pouring my wine. I have officially not gotten a wax in YEARS – ok maybe like one year but still. That is the longest it has been in my adult life. But since I was the only one admiring my own hoo ha I figured why don’t we just save some money and pain and keep it moving! So the decision on whether or not to wax started me thinking about whether or not I was ready to start dating again. At which point the lessons of pole dancing came back in my face– Do It When you Want to Do it, If you Want to do it, For No Other Reason Than Becuase You Want to Do It- which I abbreviated to OWN YOUR VAGINA.

I have always been the one to pay for my own waxing. I paid for the actually process, the pain during the waxing and the pain in the stinging showers later with still open pores. I’ve pretended to enjoy sex the same day when all I could think was HURRY UP before i get contact dermatitis!!! and Praise the Lord and All the Angels for Hydrocortisone cream and cool fans. I distinctly remember asking one of the before people ( I have got to come up with some sort of all-encompassing term for ex boyfriends- I’m getting to the point where saying ex,ex,ex,ex…just starts to sound trashy) which kind of wax he would prefer ” landing strip, heart-shaped, triangle, nothing at all” whilst praying for the landing strip because ladies let’s be honest- that last bit hurts the worst!!!! And clearly landing strip was invented by some awesome lazy, self-loving, and enterprising woman who thought- ” how about I just not do the part that hurts?” But looking back on that moment now all I can think is WTF?!!! You asked HIM how to wax YOUR VAGINA!!! ugh- this is why women have the sexual revolution at 30. I’m not quite there yet but it is about to be EPIC. Seriously, asking you boyfriend how to groom your vagina while you pay for it is an essay waiting to happen.

Let’s be real, it’s a pretty accurate example of how to properly rip the hair out of your vajayjay.

I also felt like I should not bother with the waxing bc my tummy is currently exploring her boundaries and I have been secreting her away from the world- which includes the world of aestheticians. But how Cray cray does that sound? I’m ok with them seeing my vagina but not my tummy?! Like there is literally a moment in all brazilian waxes where they are going for the a-hole and you either have to tuck in your knees laying on your back or hold up one cheek while laying to the side and I AM WORRIED ABOUT MY STOMACH?! So to conclude…I am going to wait on the brazilian- because it hurts, and because I did not budget for it this month. But when I get to the point where I feel like it I am going to OWN THAT- for no other reason than because I want to. ┬álessons from pole dancing #1 OWN YOURS

ps. This also applies for penile grooming- I have been told setting #4 on the trimmers will do the trick.