Wow- how I have missed writing! Thank you for all of your kind words, or even just wondering, “when in the hell is that gal ever going to write again”? I could blame it on my working too much, or I could blame it on my bout with anxiety and panic attacks, or I could blame it on the simple fact that I’m a crazy, busy mom with very little time in between shuffling my kids, working, being a wife, and all of the other roles I play in my life. But the simple truth is, if one of my best friends, who has twin 6-month old boys, and a three-year old boy can find time to write, then I have NO excuse! So, here I am, back in the saddle!

Though much has happened since last I wrote, there has been nothing I have been wanting to write more about, than the pole-dancing class I went to for my girlfriend’s birthday! There were twelve of us ladies, mostly all moms, mostly very suburban, typical “Soccer Moms”, pretty bobbed blonde hair, velour Juicy tracksuit, conservative- you know the type. So, we drive to what looks like an office complex in a very non-descript area of Redwood City, and walk into an office, where we could see beyond the front desk was a Pilates studio. Non-threatening, no big deal! Then we walk into the next room, which was literally a room full of floor-to-ceiling poles! Right as we walk in, the instuctor (Shelly) greets us, as she is hanging upside down, legs spread-eagle, half naked from the first pole as you walk through the door.

If you’ve never seen “Soccer Mom Shock”, it is funy as hell to witness in person! It’s when a pretty, sweetly conservative, suburbanite mom sees something that is “shocking” to her, and her recenlty Botoxed forehead can’t even stop the knee-jerk reaction of her eyebrows slightly arching, while her neatly pink-and-white manicured nails cover her Lancome Juicy Tubes-laquered mouth as a barely audible gasp emerges… it’s classic!

While some of the women recovered from their “Soccer Mom Shock” ordeal, and were still struggling to wrap their minds around what was happening in front of their eyes, a few of us reveled in what was sure to be a raunchy, in-your-face, play-by-play instruction manual into the sordid world of stripping and pole dancing. Being a belly-dancer, I have brushed shoulders with many dancers from, shall we say, “other genres” of dance. So being in a room full of poles with a barely clothed woman was no big deal to me, but for some others- it was quite out of their box!

At this point, the instructor uninverts herself on the pole, glides down effortlessly, lands in the splits, wipes down the pole with a cloth and some sort of  stripper pole cleaning solution, stands up and introduces herself as Shelly. My first thought is “Shelly”? Is that her stage name or her real name? Shelly is stunning- abs that you could bounce a quarter off of, about 12% bodyfat, every muscle defined, very impressive, and yes, a tad intimidating.

She begins to instruct us through a very benign, simple warm-up, and then BAM! Whips out the good stuff….”Ladies- this is how you do a lap dance!” Nervous trilling laughter ensues amongst the Soccer Moms, as myself and the two other more “wordly” women think, “Now we’re talkin’!” Shelly asks us to partner up- one woman is the “Dancer” and one is the “Person” (being a customer in Shelly’s case, being a shell-shocked, sex-starved husband in some of the Soccer Moms cases). I partnered up with my girlfriend, who is thankfully as open-minded, expressive and adventurous as I am. The other Moms partnered up with eachother nervously milling around the room, laughing quietly. Shelly bellows to the room, “Dancers, slowly slither up to your Person, walking very confidently and slowly!” I don’t know if you’ve ever tried to “slither” very confidently and slowly in 6″ platform heels before, but it’s no easy feat, I’ll tell ya! “When you get to your Person”, Shelly continues, “Drop down between their legs onto your knees, and show them your there for THEM. Insist your presence!” This is where a couple of the moms literally jump back, do the Soccer Mom Shock and gasp combo, and shake their heads. ‘Their poor husbands”, is all I can think. But I ignore them- I’m here to learn! I wobbily “slither” up to my friend, my “Person” and damn it, I insisted my presence! I even got into it a little leaned over my “Person” and gave her a great cleavage shot, thanks to the couple of swigs from a flask of what I’m pretty sure I determined was whiskey from one of the other gals in the class.

After lots of giggling, some nervous laughter from the other Moms, and being taught some seriously sassy dance moves, we moved onto the POLES! Shelly taught us about different ways to stand in front of the pole, then moved into how to spin. It was a blast! I had bruises on the inside of my knees and thighs for about two weeks, but it was well worth it- I would do it again in a heartbeat!

About two weeks after our class, my girlfriend who’s birthday we were celebrating at the pole class, and I, were at a Girl Scout field trip to the fire station. We were the two naughty girls in the back of the class, snickering and giggling everytime the fireman talked about the pole in the firehouse, and showed the kids how they slide down when the bell rings, etc. Finally, as we were leaving, and all of the kids were outside of earshot, she quips up to the cutest of the four hot firemen there that day, and says with a wink, “We know how to do that!” Yes,  we do…….thank you, Shelly!

When one asks what you’re thankful for during this Thanksgiving season, it is very common to blurt out the obvious: family, friends, good health, etc. So, I took it upon myself to think about the everyday things that I use, I rely on, I count on to make me the woman, mother, and otherwise goddess that I am. Here is my first annual “Of course I’m thankful for my friends and family, but I couldn’t live my life without my___________” list:

Sunless tanner: Oh, my bronze friend- thank you for making my ass look less flabby and for disguising my cellulite. Thank you for faking that I have toned abs and golden gams!

 Victoria’s Secret Very Sexy Push-up Bra: Thank you for helping me to pretend that I have the perfectly perky and forward pointing boobs that I had before I had kids. Thank you for coming with 1/2″ thick pads for me to place my doughy breasts on to make it look like either I’m 23 and a DD, or that I’ve spent $6,000 on a new set.

Kegels: Thank you, Dr. Sara, my OB/Gyn for both pregnancies, for instilling in me the importance of doing kegels. Thank you to myself for doing them, and for allowing me to sneeze and laugh without peeing on myself. Thank you God for designing women’s bodies so that you can do Kegels without anyone knowing- I think it’s always an adventure to see how many I can do, say, in line at the grocery store, or at a stoplight. Someday, I intend to learn how to do them without holding my breath, so that I can be doing them while talking to someone- could be you!

Wine: Thank you for giving me solstice at the end of a crazy day with my kids. Thank you for being so soothing, calming, nurturing. Thank you for having lots of fans, so that I’m always busy at work! Thank you for making me laugh, and for allowing me to think that I really do sound like Robert Plant when I sing Led Zeppelin when I’m drunk at karaoke.

Adhesive Breast Petals: Thank you for allowing me to go braless in revealing dresses that are made for 20-something girls who’s nipples still point forward. Thank you for masking unsightly “headlights”, and letting me go one more year wearing skimpy shit that a woman my age probably shouldn’t be wearing in the first place.

Jeans with lycra: Thank you for being so stretchy, and for allowing me to pretend that I still wear a size 4. Thank you for being made with a button with a metal rivet, so that I can keep pretending I’m a size that I’m actually two sizes larger than, and use a rubberband around the rivet and through the buttonhole to give me an extra inch around the middle. Thank you zipper for putting up with my constant pulling up with a set of pliars.

My Hairstylist: Thank you for letting me fake being blonde for so many years. Thank you for cutting my hair so that it looks thicker than it is, and coloring it so that it looks “natural”.

Candles: Thank you for making my house smell so good, and making it look so festive and elegant. Thank you also for your “airbrushing” properties- everyone looks hotter, younger, thinner in candlelight (and after a couple of glasses of wine)!

Spanx: Thank you for sculpting my thighs and ass and making it look like I just spent two hours at the gym. Thank you for having cut-off legs so that I can wear you under a short dress, and no one knows I’m wearing sausage casing that keeps all my lumps and bumps smooth under a slutty little black dress. I’ll thank you more next year if you come out with a version that allows me to breathe while wearing, or even better, come out with a crotchless version (it’s like a wrestling match with myself trying to get the damn things off and on in a bathroom stall…again thankful to Kegels)!

God: For allowing me to be a mom/woman/warrior who’s boobs may sag a little and butt may jiggle a little, but for giving me a body that can give birth to a human being and still be able to sneeze without peeing down my legs. And thank God for creating other women who come up with brilliant inventions like Spanx, or nipple covers. And mostly, thank God for the gift of laughter and humor!

Have a most fabulous Thanksgiving!

Dear Papa,

I thought that you were invincible. The man who told me stories of being a Veteran in the war. The man who was a racing hero, and showed me countless pictures of you holding trophies that were bigger than me, standing in front of amazing racecars. The man who could fix anything with a pocketknife, or a kiss- whether it was my scraped knee from riding my bike, or a broken dolly- you could fix it. The man who spent hours with my little hand in his, walking me through each of his impressive machines in his garage, and explaining to me what each one did, and showing me how to make sparks on the grinder, or how to shape a peice of metal on the lathe.

Papa, you are more of a Grandfather than any little girl could ever imagine or dream of.  So many of my fond childhood memories include you, and I was so blessed to have been your little pal when I was a little girl. I loved watching you work on the cars, or going to the auto parts store with you. I loved sitting under the car with you on the Creeper, and me sitting by you, handing you tools. You would tell me what each one did, and years before I ever even drove a car, would show me where the oil goes, how the engine works, or how to change a tire.  I loved the smell of the orange cleaner you’d use to scrub your hands, or the way your hardworking hands had all different “boo boos” all over them from working on the engines- I was fascinated by all of them! But also loved watching the same hands do tender tasks like fix my dolls, or peeling an orange with me when I was supposed to be going to sleep, or “fixing” my ice cream cones, so that they didn’t drip.

It has been such an amazing blessing for me to watch you with my children. One of my favorite pictures of you, is one where you’re holding my Son for the first time, and you’re this strong man, wearing your red racing hat, and in your arms, you’re holding this tiny little baby, and you’re smiling the most beaming smile. I truly cherish that picture! I love watching my kids laugh with you, or Clayton walk around wearing your glasses, or you helping Avery fix her toysl, or listening to you telling them a story, as they sit on your lap, and watch your face with curiosity and amazement, just like I did.

I know that this past month has been incredibly hard on you. I can’t imagine the strength, the hope and the perseverance that it must take to wake up every morning, and keep going despite the challenges and obstacles that have been put upon you. Today, you are having surgery, and I have every confidence that you will do great, and probably even suprise the doctors with how well you do! It will take some fighting and battling to get back to where you need to be, but I know that you can do it. I know that visions of the little ones laughing and dancing while they do performances with your cane as the microphone, or thoughts of the little guy riding all around on his bike wearing your glasses, or sitting with your granddaughter listening to Patsy Cline or Grandpa Jones and talking about “back then”, or spending time with your daughters and laughing and talking about family memories and traditions, these are all very real reasons to get better.

Yes, I am a grown woman now, and a wife and a mother, but I am still the same little girl that admires you. That cherishes your stories, loves seeing you laugh so hard that you have to take off your glasses and wipe your eyes, and treasures the moments that my kids are cuddling next to you, listening to your stories. There are so many more memories to make, Papa. I know that you can do this, because you are  a hero to me, and a man with immeasurable strength. You have so much love around you, from your daughters, your siblings, to your grandchildren, and your great-grandchildren. There are more stories to be told, more dolls and toys to fix, more performances in little princess shoes on a tile floor to watch, more hugs to share, and more laughter to be had. I look forward to many more cherished memories with you.

With so much love, from a Granddaughter that is so blessed to have you as her Papa,

Kristin Noel