Honesty.

Learning to dance has forced me to be honest with my body. It's impossible to think how ugly your arms are when they effortlessly lift you into the air. It's impossible to think about how awful your legs are when they unfold into the air and trace delicious circles against the sky. It's difficult to hate your own skin when you're flying only because of friction.

The pole makes the best partner when you give it everything, collapsing against it as the music fades out. I suppose most dance is the same way, but the pole in particular is a partner who always asks for more, yet is forgiving when you find your limit.

I love finding the individual muscle fibers that are holding me back. I love pinpointing the exact place to push back against the pole. I love learning about the details of my own body. Before pole, I knew about my physical being in a general sense, like a city that I had traveled through many times but never really paused to explore. Now I know the twisting lanes of my veins, the canyon curves of my hips, the roughness at the city limits and the pulse of the nightlife. It's an intimacy and a comfort in my own skin that I didn't think was possible. Of course, I still have big plans, feel like I have places to grow and changes to make. But I feel at home here.