Costume Obsession

As those of you who know me from Facebook are already well aware, I have been going nuts lately buying costumes. First a sailor suit, then a Spanish dancer, and then a sexy referee costume (including whistle!). I think it’s the joy of having my IUD out. Which is something you’d also know about if you followed me on Facebook (hint, hint – and join the PoleSkivvies group on Facebook, too, since that’s where I give out special deals).

But, for those of you who missed the whole sordid episode, here’s what happened …

NOTE: If you hate TMI, this is where you should click to a different page. (May I suggest one of the lovely posts linked in the sidebar?)

The Uterine Chronicles

This past April, I got an IUD. I figured I’d like it just fine, if I could only get through the insertion. So, when I sailed through the insertion, thanks to a great doctor and lots of local anesthetic, I figured I was home free.

Wrong. As it turned out, my uterus was to spend the next three months trying to figure out what the hell I’d done to her and why there was suddenly scaffolding sitting inside her.

Granted, she eventually stopped making me scream in pain and even managed to allow sex to be mostly enjoyable for almost 50% of the month, but that was all she was willing to give. I quickly grew tired of watching my sex life descend through the following stages:

Happy and Frolicsome.
This stage is characterized by great sex – you know, when you actually want to have sex and then, when you have it, you find you actually like it. Which sets you up to want it again. Soon. Loved this stage. Sadly, this stage disappeared the day my IUD entered the picture.

Anthropological.
This stage presented itself along with the IUD. It is characterized by excessive mental analysis, which is to say that, instead of merry thoughts of sprightly fucking, my mind had an endless thought pattern of analyzing every move. It went something like this: “Hmm, I don’t know about that. Wait … no, that’s okay … I guess that’s okay. Hmm. I don’t think it hurts. No, wait, yes it does. It hurts. Stop it. Now. GET OUT OF ME.”

Deflective.
This stage took up the last few weeks of my life, when I had finally learned through Pavlovian repetition that, no matter how much I might think I want sex, it will be joyless at best and painful at worst. This stage makes for a sulky and mopey Jennifer, one who sounds a bit like this: “Ooh, goody! I’d love to have sex! Oh, wait, that’s right, this will be either painful or unpleasant. Oh, fuck – this is so awful. Oh, forget it – how about I just go down on you and you promise not to go anywhere near this area on me? Deal?”

Current Uterine Status

Last Thursday was the great IUD Removal Day, which became a full-fledged celebration. I woke up to find my man had hidden word-scramble love notes all over the house, so I spent the morning finding them. Then off we went to the doctor’s, and it was quite easy getting the IUD taken out (and, for those of you who are wondering, no, it’s NOT terribly painful – just a cramp and no need to fret about it – and this is the perspective of the woman who nearly insisted on general for the insertion).

Best of all, the minute it was removed, I felt better. A few cramps for the first hour, but nothing bad, and then my uterus started to smile. I did a little hip circle here and there and kept telling my man how happy she was to move again, so we were all excited and went to a little Italian restaurant to celebrate.

But we needed more, so we got fresh figs and cherries and caramels and an extraordinary caramel-and-coffee sauce and headed for home, where my man fed me fruit and sweets and my uterus smiled in delight.

She smiled very much later that night, too, but that is where this story segues into …

POLE DANCING!

Having had that freakish foreign object removed from my body turned out to be a huge emotional release, as well. A feeling of womanly deliciousness returned and permeated my entire body – which, naturally, leads a girl to think about pole dancing.

And I got to thinking that my pole dancing has been a bit … stiff. Like the IUD. With lots of thought and mental effort before each move. Just like sex with the IUD. Sometimes less thinking, sometimes more, but I could see that I hadn’t yet ever felt really comfortable just letting myself move with the pole.

Breakthrough

And that’s when it occurred to me: pole dancing is all about CIRCLES. Twirls and spins galore – all of which are about going AROUND the pole.

Now, I have never pretended to be especially bright, so it’s no surprise that I’ve been pole dancing for nearly three years now and this just came to me, but at least the thought did finally arrive, and I figured I should jump on it.

So, I spent the weekend practicing. The timing was perfect, since Kristina (from Studio Veena and Facebook) dropped by for a pole jam, and she gave me some great tips. After she left, I just drilled and drilled and drilled ways to walk around the pole.

Mainly, I focused on grounded spins and twirls – I wanted to get comfortable with the fluidity of circling the pole, and I watched these pole videos for inspiration (you may need to add them as friends in order to see them):

Yannori of ExpresstheSensual.com

StarrGrrl

Tigiee

A Look Back

For comparison, here’s where I was over a year ago:

This Weekend

And here’s where I was by the end of this weekend. Not phenomenal, but I think there’s a definite shift in my fluidity. Hope it shows – and hope it keeps improving – just like my life sans IUD!