I look at failure different now
Last year I went to a strip club for the first time in my life. Not that strange, considering that I grew up in Namibia and instead of studying, travelling the world, or partying abroad, I settled and started a family. I don’t regret that. My two little girls are amazing. The daddy was, until he wasn’t anymore. When a chapter in our life closes, we all have our own way of moving into the new chapter. I shaved my head and got fit. I went on a spontaneous road trip to Cape Town and got legal advice from the most amazing people I have had the honor of meeting. Some of them just so happened to be strippers. I was inspired by their confidence, their stories of how they got there, and the power they held so evidently behind sparkly outfits and high heels. Months passed and as I ventured into self discovery, I stumbled across a post on Facebook advertising pole dancing classes. I toyed with the idea, and came to like it more with every day that passed. This is the future. This is the sexual liberation of the female spirit. This is the reclaiming of a body that has belonged to someone else for far too long.
The first class went by in a swirl. Excitement at the prospect of mastering this skill was all I could feel. The next day my body ached and pained in all the most delicious ways. However, the classes that followed became increasingly difficult. I wanted to quit. A few times. I walked out mid class at least twice. It felt like I would never be strong enough to hold this pose or twirl that way – let alone look sexy while doing it. Every time I went back. Despite the bruised feet and blistered hands. I’m glad I did. It taught me to respect the process. To be patient with yourself. To edge forward until you feel the boundaries shift. The support I got from The Hot Project was unbelievable. It is such a massive help to have people believe in you when you don’t believe in yourself. It was a process. There was a lot of trying and failing. Until that one day that I tried and got it right. Then I failed again. A few times. And then, I got a move right again. This time, there was photographic evidence. It was magnificent! The sheer realization that impossible is nothing. Impossible becomes a challenge. And baby, my momma didn’t raise no quitter. I strive to become stronger, to become fitter. It is this hellfire warrior attitude that fills my heart every time I conquer a new challenge. It is this same mentality of hard work and perseverance that I want to instill in my daughters.
I look at failure different now. Failing does not mean you should stop trying. It just means you need to try harder. Whether you fail at climbing a pole, sticking to your diet, or keeping your cool when the kids are running rampant. Each time I fail I am that much closer to succeeding. I am eternally grateful for everything Pole Fit teaches me about fitness, about success, and about inappropriate sexual humor.