We met for coffee at a shop just three blocks away. I could usually get there in less than two minutes, but on that particular Thursday, it was the longest three blocks of my life. I could hear my thighs eek with each step, and my muscles stretched like rubber bands that are then popped back into place. My arms swung back and forth like they normally do, but my upper body and my back hurt just even taking in a breath. It was the day after I took my first pole dancing class and though I was in pain, I felt pretty damn good.
The coffee shop was full, but I saw my friend near the window. I grabbed some coffee and winced as I made my way up onto the stool.
“You good?” He asked and I told him about the pole dance I had taken the night before. Told him through a smile while I stretched my arms over my head. This is how professional athletes must feel after a big game.
“It may be the feminist in me,” he said, “but that’s stupid.”