By Ruth Nicholas

When you think of pole dancers, you think long-legged, lithe young women in minimal clothing and skyscraper heels. You do not think of a short, pear-shaped 37-year-old in cycling shorts and gardening boots. But, what the hell, I've done lots of silly exercise sessions, so I was willing to try a pole-dancing class.

I approached the class with mixed emotions. I was looking forward to the warm-up, heralded as a good, sweaty workout with lots of stretching, but I had deep-seated reservations about getting down and dirty with a bit of scaffolding.

We were told to wear shorts, bring trainers for the warm-up and boots that covered the ankle for the pole session. We were warned not to wear our best boots, hence my sodding great clodhoppers, which made me feel almost as ridiculous as I looked.

The class took place in the lower floor of a bar, so you could drink and smoke and, in retrospect, a double gin and tonic would probably have been a very good idea. It was for women only and designed to have a relaxed, fun, girlie atmosphere: giggling, applauding each others' efforts was obligatory, wolf-whistling, hooting and hollering was encouraged.

After the workout, which was not at all sweaty or testing, the tutor performed a routine to give us an idea of what we might we aspire to. It was much more acrobatic than I had expected and a lot less sexy. She revolved round the pole, spinning from hand to hand, turning upside down, doing all manner of impossible things. The erotic moves seemed to centre on spreading your legs and giving your pudendum as much prominence as possible. In other words, wide-angle fanny. Call me naïve, but I was hoping for more sensuality, more cat-like grace and undulating sexiness, not, 'Here it is, honey, come and get it.'

Learning tricks
I am not one of life's natural pole dancers, as I discovered when we took turns learning tricks. There were two poles and only six students, so we weren't sitting around for ages or performing to hordes of strangers, and everyone there was lovely. Frankly, I could have had a pole to myself for the entire session and I still wouldn't have been able to swing round the thing with both feet off the floor - or anything else. The only move I could do involved walking around the pole, cradling one knee round it and flopping forward.

Pole dancing is far more difficult than it looks. For one thing, you are suspended from one arm for much of the time, so good upper-body strength - which I don't have - is vital. Plus, you need the confidence to throw yourself into a move and trust your momentum to carry you through it. I didn't have that, either, although the rest of the class fared much better. I definitely should have had that gin.

Friction burns
We practised six tricks, after which the cool-down session was very welcome. The class took just over two hours altogether and left me with friction burns in unfeasible places and bruises on my arms and legs. The muscles in my right arm and down my right flank are still screaming at any movement three days on and my left is only slightly better.

Swinging off a pole is hard work for the upper body and there is reasonable cardiovascular element, but is not an all-over way to get fit. But it was fun, it was deeply silly - and I have absolutely no intention of doing it again!

Class details
Ruth attended a Polestars class in London. Both one-off classes and six-week courses are available. For more information see www.polestars.net