It Happened To Me: I'm A 76-Year-Old Pole Dancer

"Are you stripping?” my daughter asked. "So what if I am?” I shot back. I'm old enough now to do whatever I want with my life.

Hey dudes!

There is much to talk about today, but I'm going to save it for the comments because I mostly want to hear what you have to say back to what I say —as always.

One thing to deal with though is finalizing a new date for our AJPT Controversial Books Only Book Club. The book is the riveting How To Lose Your Mother, by Molly Jong-Fast, for anyone who wants to join in now. (You’ll be fine as it’s a quick page-turning read if you actually read it —unlike me who forces myself to put it down every two seconds so I can “work.”) I'm going to have my cohost Corynne get in here and help pick the best date because I love the idea of doing it around the weekend of the 19th when she is in NYC. However, one of our glorious club members, Alyssa, has tickets to Morrissey the night of the 19th, so I don't want to screw that up for her. Plus her mom's birthday is on the 11th so she had already been excited for them to both do book club together on the 12th and her mom loves Molly. And I love Alyssa!

So you can see how I am not the best at organizing these things because I get too caught up in everybody's schedules and start saying that maybe I can host it three different times so that everyone can be included (which I am more than happy to do). Fortunately, Corynne volunteered to figure out the best date when she can be there and when you can be there, and I'm really looking forward to seeing you then and talking like crazy. I already have so much to say about this book. (Do any of you make notes or turn pages down as you're reading if there are specific things you want to remember to talk to us about? That only applies if you're dealing with an actual physical printed book, as I am, and I just started doing that last night, but as I said, I know nothing about book clubs so I don't know what's usually done or even what happens at these things when they happen.)

OK, that was exciting. On to other things! Like Sherry’s pole dancing. And don't forget to join me in the comments for a funny story from this morning that will be worth your while, I swear.

Love love lovity love,

Jane

PS: By the way, I am finally handing out assignments to those five amazing Beauty Editor candidates, so get ready to do my job for me and weigh in on who you think is best suited to wear each specific AJPT Beauty Editor crown. They are all so smart and funny and interesting, and this is going to be so much fun doing it with you. (My definition of fun anyway - my teenage journal having listed my biggest dream as being to one day create a publication “with my friends.” Let's do it!)

This photo was taken when I flipped upside down for the first time. Notice my straight legs and pointed toes!

By Sherry Shahan

Two years ago, a girlfriend asked if I’d like to sign up for an introductory pole dance class. At my age?

I had zero core strength and cranky joints. My spine felt like it was held together with shoelaces—or, more aptly, varicose veins.

My doctor had been threatening meds for osteoporosis. “Very few side effects,” he said.

“By far the oldest person to ever grace their threshold, I have bunions, hammertoes, and thumbs that look like baby feet. Thankfully, the lights in the studio are dim.”

My girlfriend kept nudging me. “Pole-dancing is a weight-bearing exercise!”

There are approximately 600 pole dance studios in the U.S. More than 20,000 students. Their average age is mid-twenties. Would they welcome a great-grandmother whose skin is a bouquet of puckered parchment paper?

I’d played around with photography, mixed-media collage, and writing offbeat poetry. I thought it might be invigorating to try a new art form. “I like the idea of a dance partner who doesn’t talk back,” I told my friend.

“Flip Tease Pole and Fitness Studio” lies in a strip mall between Taco Bell and the Republican Headquarters in a buttoned-down California town. Mothers for Liberty control the school board, and ads for Smith and Wesson play on our local radio station.

Yet the studio’s front window displays photos of the all-female staff in scanty attire.

Behold, my pole dancing “head shot.”

It isn’t easy to stay on a pole while clothed. Skin acts as a grip to keep you from slipping—a reason dancers shun body lotion. No jewelry either. Rings and watches can scratch our statuesque partners. Yes, to deodorant!

I picked through bikinis at Target—instead, I settled on high-rise black spandex underwear that fit like a girdle. I couldn’t breathe, but my belly was flatter than it had been in 60 years.