A Pole For Home
It seems there comes a time not long after you start poling when you start to think, "Hmmm, if I had a pole at home I could practice more". For me this was motivated in part because I do live a 40 minute drive from my pole studio, but if I'm honest it's because I don't want to fall behind in being able to do the tricks and spins we've been taught. Bugger trying to get ahead at this point, I just wanted to keep up!
I try not to wave the "Old Duck" flag too much because it's bullshit really. Age is no barrier to poling. I'm healthy, my body is healthy, it's in an okay condition but can always improve. I just need to put the effort into making sure that I do take that extra time with warming up and stretching, just because my muscles aren't used to these different movements. I fully expect as they become accustomed I won't need to take as long, but for now I know I can do it, I just have to make the extra time to prepare.
I'll let you in on a secret about the type of person I am. I can be competitive but I'm handicapped... well I'm sort of handicapped, okay maybe just a tad handicapped. Oh for god sake, alright I'm not handicapped at all, mentally challenged is a better word for it and some days I think, "What the hell am I trying to do?" usually as I lay on the floor in my lounge room with my legs untangling from my pole. Anyway, back to the competitive. I'm around women a lot younger than me, some are almost close to me in age, with the odd one even older; but I want to hold my own, it's important to me and part of my own personal victory at finally doing pole dancing.
Now, I did get a pole like a lot of ladies who order theirs towards the end of level one. However I did not take up the generous offer Karla made to put in a group order and have postage waived. Why? Because I'm a dickhead, that's why. I was unusually impatient, desperate to throw myself into it and get going, with an embracing all things pole mindset. So I went ahead and ordered my own.
Now here is where you get to learn from my mistakes. Trust me, sometimes I can be a terrific warning to people on what you should NOT do.
I jumped online to the X-Pole Australia website and ordered my pole. I got the 45mm brass, same like we have in our Pole Gym. But I wanted the snazzy one that didn't rely on tension between the floor and the roof, it was free standing. I thought I could then drag it about the house to different locations from month to month if I wanted a change of scenery, because when you pole it's all about your scenery, pfft!
The pole arrives, lovely delivery guy brings it into the entryway for me. Hmmm, seems terribly, terribly heavy and is in four boxes? So the next three weeks my family and I spent walking around these boxes in the entryway to get in and out of the front door and into the lounge room. You see I was motivated to buy a pole, now picking a spot and building it - not so much.
I come home from poling one night and Dear Hub has opened the boxes and has started to build it.
I look at it and think, "Yeah, this is perfect - super cute, has a stage too. Yay me".
Dear Hub looks at me all sceptical and says, "Are you sure about the fit?"
"Pardon?" was my reply.
"Did you measure it. You know the height between the floor and the ceiling?" he asks.
"Noooo, oh, oh, oh… SHIT!" was my whispered, breathy, very understated reply.
Turns out the space between my floor and ceiling is your standard 2.4 metres.
I had in front of me a beautiful black stage and a shiny new three meter brass pole.
Yes, you read that right , 3 meters, 3m, 300 centimetres.
The word dickhead echoed continuously about my head as I stared at it. I then tried to use my untapped hidden super powers to shrink it and that did nothing. I obviously didn't have enough caffeine in my system - this is the key to activating my super powers and enables me to do really, really clever (read that as stupid) stuff. Oh, it was also revealed to me that my family have followed me into the land of dickheads. After much deliberation and pontificating, with them both standing and staring at my sexy black stage and stumpy brass pole, Dear Hub and Mr 16 turn to me and announce, "We could cut it. Or we could cut a hole in the ceiling and stick the extra bit of pole into the roof". I know they meant well but I will confess to turning around waiting to hear banjo music start playing to really add to the redneck atmosphere they were creating. So, not only was I left feeling like a dickhead for not measuring, I find out my family are well intentioned stupid people too. Ah, the land of the dickhead, turns out I am their queen.
Half a pole and a cute stage... I'm such a DICKHEAD!
Yes there is a moral to this blog today, measure, measure, and then measure again just to be sure. Measure between your floor and ceiling, find out the measurements of your pole, then do the math. You cannot use willpower to make a pole too tall to fit into a shorter space - been there done that and it doesn't work. If you get a chance to group order be patient and take it up, the postage is quite expensive.
Finally if you do cock it all up, tell the world. If you take life so seriously that you cannot laugh at your own mistakes, learning to pole is going to hurt you way more than physically. Toughen up buttercup and let everyone enjoy a laugh.
And for the record I ended up getting a tension floor to roof pole 45mm brass. It fits quite nicely and the same delivery guy carried it into my house for me again… oh, and I paid postage, again!
This one fits!
