I was shocked to see that there are still people visiting my blog after a year of absence - so, thanks and hi to those of you who have been visting.
Last year was both the best and the worst of my life. For so many different, painful and life changing reasons.
But here I am, a year later, I'm still poling. I'm still injuring myself. I'm still being sat on by a now 40kg Winnie (who as I'm writing is trying to shove a (worn) sock in my face and I am, octopus style, trying to reject said sock).
So it's time to accept the truth... I am a pole addict. I'm back guys, ready to regale you with tales of my successes, and my (usually embarrassing) failures.
I saw this on Instagram many many months ago. I've been poling less recently due to work commitments, but finally I thought "how hard can it be?".
The answer to that is "well it entirely depends on how much time you've spent in hell so you're better prepared for the infinite burning sensation created by this gorgeous move". If you don't happen to need the skin on the outside of your leg, go ahead and enjoy yourself...
I was naive.
I climbed the pole, wrapped my outside leg around it and proceeded to put my weight onto the skin there. At this point, my neighbours began their lesson in English curse words, and which were more commonly used by a 33 year old English woman from the South.
Even Winnie looked abashed.
After some time, lots of removed skin, many many many curse words and several grimaces I got to this point...
I have some work to do ;)