Nine thoughts you have when learning Exotic Pole

So back in July 2017 I wrote a blog all about floorwork and the trials and tribulations that surround that complicated, sexy bastard. Well, in a similar way to re-visiting my old flexibility post, this blog is a sort of update on how the old sexy flow, floorwork and exotic pole training is coming along for yours truly. (Hint, I think I am in need of some exotic assistance.)

Now I have the free time to devote to some decent flexibility training once again (yippee!) I thought it was time to put on my big girl pants and start to properly get my Exotic on. My love for Authentic, Classique and Stripper style pole continues to grow in 2018, and as much of a huge challenge as it is for me, I’m determined to not fuck this challenge up completely like I did the first time around – I think I’m definitely a second, third, well actually fuck it, fourth times a charm when it comes to nailing this whole pole dance malarkey.

Back in August I attended the badass Sarah Blackmilk’s Slinkography workshop at Pole World festival and have started attending Maya Dance and Fitness’s monthly Exotic Pole class. This more regular practice of the whole Exotic Pole business has lead me to realise that there are nine thoughts that pop up on the regular when cultivating ones sexy side, which I noted down in class for you all.

• “This hurts”

Fuck me Exotic pole is no walk in the park when it comes to pain. Despite all the mental pep-talks you give yourself beforehand about “oh it’s okay, I’m not doing any complicated tricks etc” the bastard still hurts. All the calisthenics behind hoisting oneself around the pole and floor and attempting (fake) flexi moves involves so much stretching and reaching that ones’ ligaments feel about as tight as a gnat’s bumhole.

• “Everything is heavy”

Oh lord! I swear to the mighty Felix Cane that the second you start training Exotic pole you magically put on five stone in concrete on the spot. How the fuck the Russian and Aussie queens and kings hoist themselves around the pole in such a weightless and controlled fashion is a mystery to my little brain. All the push-pulling of pirouettes, floor rotatey thingys and various other exotic manoeuvres involves so much heaving of yourself- and let’s not forget that you’re doing it all in heels, just to add in some extra weight and make things even more difficult because why not?

• “My fake splits don’t even look like splits”

Ugh trying to appear all sexy and flexy when you’re not quite there yet is so bloody hard! The main reason I am trying to get my flexibility up to speed is so I can join in with my fierce pole buddies and bust out some hot and bendy floorwork (like what our Jess is doing above) but the process of faking it until I make it is no easier feat either. My drop into fake splits just looks like my legs have opened a normal, human sized amount. Woe is me and my hip flexors like frozen chips.

• “Woah what the fuck is this?! Which foot is going where?!”

Holy shit you legit require the coordination of a Kung Fu master in order to successfully execute an Exotic routine. One minute you’re about to do a basic backwards roll, the next minute you’re supposed to have twisted up into an Exorcist position, done 12 clock legs, a vagina monster then finish it off with a stripper push up. But what foot is going where?! Is my hand in the right place? I don’t think I’m supposed to be flat on my belly right now. Oh I’m in a right pickle here!

• “Christ I’m about as sexy as a poo”

As much as I adore learning Exotic pole, the level of concentration it requires combined with the colossal, physical effort does leave me looking as sexy as a number two several times throughout the class. I often have a wet chin as I tend to stick my tongue out when I’m concentrating, so combine a slobbery chin with limbs flailing all over the place, several flops on the floor and I’m quite the lustful site to behold.

• “OOH I MANAGED IT!”

SHIT THE BED I ACTUALLY MANAGED SOMETHING! The monumental occasion when you actually get some flow in Exotic class is a marvellous feeling. All the furrowed brows, confused expressions, sore knees and wet chin have been worth it! Sexy progress is slowly but surely being made!

• “I did it all the way through! I am a Choreo QUEEN. BEHOLD MY FLOW FOR IT IS LETHAL!”

Yas! Not only have you been able to achieve one move from class you can now bust out the entire routine in (roughly) the same time as your peers and teacher. You feel like an absolute flow pro right about now. Fuck is this what it feels like to be a professional pole dancer?! You know what I might have a stab at entering Dance Filthy, Floorplay or Pole Theater’s Classique category next year, this is clearly what I was born to do.

• *sweating mess at the end of class* “No it isn’t. Fuck I need a Lucozade.”

Fucking hell Exotic pole doesn’t half get you sweating like a beast come the end of class. Not only have you been dancing to the best of your abilities, you have also been doing it with gigantic heels on AND trying your hardest to look sexy AF in the process, which as we have established is no easy feat. Time to neck a multipack of Lucozades and collapse in a post-Exotic heap.

• “I now also smell like a poo.”

If you’re the kind of savage specimen who appreciates the stench of their own pits after a cracking workout, then you’ll love the sheer stench of hard work that pours out of them after an Exotic training session. You’ll never smell quite as potent after a pole class as you will after the floor fucking exhaustion that comes from a brutal, exotic practice!