Pole Dancing or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love My Body

In my 37 years, I’ve had many hobbies. Before there was cosplay, there was piano, violin, writing short stories, girl scouts, soccer, ballet and tap. After picking up cosplay in high school, it became my primary hobby. Dance was still a part of my life with drill team, but other sports and hobbies became forgotten.

Last year, as a new years resolution, I took up vocal lessons at a music studio my bestie recommended. I loved singing and wanted to learn skills to improve. I committed to a year of that and was able to do two recitals with that music studio. When January 2026 came around, after enjoying my little year-long experiment so much, I decided to make it a new tradition. Each January, I’d start something I’d never done before and give it an honest shot for a year. This year, I swapped vocal lessons for pole dancing classes.

Why pole dancing?

About a decade or so ago, pole dancing was getting popular as a form of exercise. I didn’t get into it then because I was in my rock climbing phase (and because I did not feel comfortable enough in my body to try it). I admired pole dancers for their athleticism and beauty, but I just couldn’t get over that initial stigma, no matter how mainstream it was starting to become. Couple that with a lack of female friends willing to try it with me and the dream vanished as quickly as it came.

Fast forward to 2026: bestie Xaeri told me they’d found a studio that was central to both of us and that they wanted to try. Having someone else to go with made the prospect of trying it a lot less scary, so we went for it. There was a deal for first-timers, which made the financial commitment also less daunting. I ended up going to that first Intro to Pole class by myself.

I was instantly hooked.

It scratches every itch

I get bored with exercise very quickly. As I briefly alluded to before, I go through phases. In grade school, it was sports. In high school, it was drill team. Post-college was rock climbing, yoga, swimming, and couch to 5k. During my brief time doing personal training, I found myself loving power lifting. All of these different hobbies taught me different skills and ways to use my body, but after a year or so, without fail, I’d get bored and move onto the next thing.

Considering it’s only August, it may be early to say this, but I get the feeling pole—and all its sub-genres of dance like burlesque and low flow—will have some staying power. Why? Simple: it does everything I need it to.

Cardio. I hate cardio but I love dance. If you can get me to do cardio without realizing I’m doing cardio, we’re golden. Dance is my favorite form of cardio for a multitude of reasons that I’ll get into more below.

Strength training. Lifting over 180lbs of body weight on a pole is no easy task. I’m the heaviest I’ve ever been in my life but I can feel myself getting stronger and tricks getting easier. I can see myself toning up in the mirror and it feels good! Progress isn’t tracked by numbers on weight plates but with how easily a new skill comes.

Flexibility. Despite getting super strong with power lifting, my flexibility took a nose dive when I was doing it. Yes, I could deadlift more than my body weight but I couldn’t do the splits like I used to. At the time, I didn’t mind. But long-term, I value my flexibility. Doing pole and dance has helped immensely with that. We warm up and stretch before every class, focusing on whatever muscle groups will be targeted by the tricks we learn that day. While I don’t have my splits back, I feel a lot more limber than I did years ago.

Self-expression. Sports feel competitive and weight lifting feels repetitive. So many fitness routines are focused on progress, speed, strength, or endurance with no attention to expressing yourself or being a creative artful outlet. Being a very emotional person, I need a creative outlet. For a long time, that was cosplay and music, but neither of those really help me with my fitness and health goals. Dance—in all its forms—does. It’s the only exercise I do that ever gives me creative freedom. After each choreo class, we’re encouraged to freestyle. The first few weeks of that felt awkward; I felt lost without specific choreography to do. But as I kept coming to class, I picked up moves here and there and started to incorporate them into my freestyles. I feel a lot more comfortable going with the flow than I did before and allowing myself to just listen to what my body feels like doing in that moment. There’s something very liberating about that.

Community. I’ve realized over the years that I missed being on the drill team. I missed being a part of something bigger than myself and working toward a common goal. I missed the structured, regularly scheduled moments of bonding and friendship. Going to the dance studio has given me that again. And while we’re not working towards a shared goal like drill team competitions, we’re still lifting each other up (sometimes literally) to reach our personal goals. Not only that, but I got to support my classmates and instructors who competed at PSO, and I felt like i was going back in time to dance competition in high school. What a thrill and what an inspiring experience! The activity of pole keeps me active, but the friendships I’ve built from regular classes keeps me coming back and holding me accountable. I get as much enjoyment being supported by them as I do by hyping them all. We’re all students here and we’re all here to progress and improve. It’s wonderful to get to witness everyone’s personal growth journeys and cheer them on.

Fashion. Clothes can really make or break an activity or sport. I definitely feel more confident when I’m wearing clothes that are suited for the hobby. Since starting pole, I’ve bought so many pieces that I find are both cute and functional. I’ve played around with swimsuits, mesh bodysuits, and fishnet for some fun studio fits. It’s been awesome to explore that side of fashion that I had never before, always being a bit more of a modest dresser. But now, thanks to some new body confidence, I’ve gotten to express myself in a new way (that looks great for Instagram lol)

Body confidence. I’ve really buried the lead here, but this is probably one of the biggest things this new hobby has given me. As someone who has always struggled with body image issues and horrible self-talk, going to a studio and purposefully wearing fewer clothes is terrifying. But knowing that more skin means better contact with the pole meant that it was safer for me show more than to hide. It helps that the studio is full of bodies of all types, all strong and beautiful in their own unique ways. Being surrounded by that helped ease me into showing more. It took pole for me to finally work out with just a sports bra—no shirt—comfortably. I was finally prioritizing my strength and progress over my appearance.

Cosplay vs. Pole: How Two Hobbies Affect Body Positivity

How the heck was I going to tie this all back to cosplay? Aren’t dressing up as fictional characters and spinning around on a pole in a bikini two very different things? Yes! But both are visual mediums and I’ve learned something about myself and both communities by being in both worlds.

Cosplay is about Being Someone Else

At its core, cosplay is about emulating someone you are not. It’s about dressing up as a fictional character, donning their clothes, their hair, their makeup, and acting as them. As any cosplayer or actor can tell you, letting yourself embody another person or character can be a very fun, rewarding experience. If you’re feeling insecure, cosplaying a confident character and pretending to be confident can slowly help you become more confident in real life. It’s the epitome of Fake It Till You Make It. In this way, cosplay can be a great tool for self-improvement.

However, because the entire crux of the hobby is built around being someone else, it falls into to a dangerous pitfall: comparison. No matter how hard you try, you will not be the perfect embodiment of that 2d anime waifu or husbando. We’re limited by our mortal, corporeal bodies that have appearances based on genetics and a whole host of factors. Yes, there are some ways to fake it through makeup, prosthetics and the like. (Or the justifiably frowned upon act of changing your skin color via makeup—don’t do this! That’s a whole separate issue we don’t have time to get into for this post.) But at the end of the day, you are still you, just in a costume.

Photo by chanhvisuals

When a hobby focuses on aesthetic, the things that are out of our control become obvious differences that bigoted people will latch onto. Race, skin color, weight, height, you name it. For whatever reason, these people (usually not even part of the cosplay community) can’t get it through their thick skulls that no one can reasonably look exactly 100% accurate to a character. They rather defend some fictional person than care about the real-life person on their phone screen. It’s human nature to compare, but the anonymity of the internet has made bullying plus-size, Black, POC, queer, and disabled cosplayers a competitive sport at this point. It’s no wonder that I see so many friends slowly distancing themself from cosplay. Heck, I’m one of those people.

For so long, I thought cosplay was helping me build confidence in myself. And it did, to an extent. But when your Funimation cosplay post gets tons of fatphobic comments and you see your friends called racist slurs, you start to lose that self-esteem. You start to feel like you’ll never be accepted, no matter how hard you try.

Enter pole.

Pole is about Embracing Yourself

Going to that first pole class was ridiculously nerve-racking. Doing something you’ve never done before and knowing you’re going to look like a fool as you flail around is enough to not want to try at all. But I am so thankful to myself for giving it a shot, despite all my nerves.

Like I mentioned before, the fewer things between you and the pole means better grip, more friction, and therefore better maneuverability to do tricks and spins. But wearing fewer clothes and showing more skin can make you feel naked—physically and mentally. It’s a hard hangup to get over. I’m a modest dresser, opting for long skirts instead of short shorts or crew necks over deep plunging necklines. I don’t show mid-driff, thigh, or cleavage if I can help it. I adore those that are more comfortable in their skin to do so, but I myself have spent my life (when not in cosplay) trying to disappear as much as possible. Do not perceive me. I am not here. The only time I wanted to be noticed was when cosplaying.

So it was counter-intuitive when I started feeling more confident in my body when I started showing more and more skin in classes. I shed my fears in favor of better technique and a more solid grip. I started only wearing my shirts for warmups and taking them off to show off my newest sports bra during class. I found athletic clothes that made me feel comfortable and confident, that made me want to be perceived. Clothes that made me feel beautiful.

For once, I was happy being me. Not someone else.

I can walk into class and post on Instagram saying, “Yes, this is my body. And I love it. Look at how beautiful and strong it is. Also check out this sick new spin I just learned.”

Pole did for my body image the same thing that going to a Korean spa did: when everyone is naked (or practically naked) we’re all equals. We cannot hide our flaws. (Or what society tells us are flaws but are in fact just normal representations of aging.) We see what real people look like in their everyday lives, rather than the polished, edited and perfectly-lit images we see on the internet.

That’s something I feel like a lot of people—not just cosplayers, but everyone—would benefit from. Just being in a space in person, interacting with people face-to-face. COVID did a lot of things, one of which was seclude us from one another and push us deeper into our echo chambers. I know for myself going back to seeing people outside took a long time to get used to again. COVID gave me a bit of germaphobia as well as a cynicism when it came to humanity. But being with people—real people—does wonders for your self-esteem, your perspective, and your mental health.

The Only One Who Can Be You is You

Cosplay can feel invigorating and fulfilling in its own right. Some people learn more about themselves through cosplay than any other hobby. But if you’re like me and you found yourself falling into the pit of comparison, try to find a hobby that lets you be you. Whether that’s dancing, writing, music, poetry, or any other creative outlet. While pretending to be someone else can help you feel comfortable learning new skills, don’t forget that it’s still you in there.

It can be tough, but you have to learn to love you without the cosplay on top. Yes, there’s nothing wrong with feeling good in a new costume. But if your self-esteem is in the trash, no amount of cosplays or makeup will fix that.

The beauty of a hobby like pole is that there is no right or wrong way to be yourself. There’s no “canon” to abide by or “accuracy” to achieve. You’re free from limitations, which means you can be anything you want. You’re not beholden to a set style and are free to explore everything that makes you you. And as you progress and you learn your strengths and weaknesses, you learn just how capable you are.

I found myself saying this last week after my first ever Level 2 Pole class:

I can do hard things. I can do scary things.

I never would’ve learned that if I never showed up. If I never stepped out of my comfort zone and took that first class. Each new week is a new challenge, a new level to rise to. I find myself doing things easily that I struggled with before and find myself challenged by things I never even thought possible a year ago. And soon enough, those hard things will become easy to with time and practice.

And I gotta say, it’s done wonders for my mental health.

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