TYNGSBORO — When clients show up for a class with Tracy Elston, a Chelmsford native, they first take off their shoes, and then their rings.
In a small room with a wall-to-wall mirror, bright-green paint on the walls and a pink boa hanging delicately in a corner, they next approach one of seven metal poles in the center of the room, and grab hold.
Elston says there’s nothing wrong with “pole fitness,” though it can carry a stigma because of its likeness to activities in, for example, gentlemen’s clubs. Even though the certified personal trainer says her clients have fun and there’s nothing sexual about the workouts, she will close the curtain over the windows, just to put the room at ease.
It’s a story that’s almost as old as time. A story of a little hamlet on the banks of the Merrimack and their four century resistance of God’s will to showcase poles there. From the great Colonel Jonathan Tyng, and his distaste for Pennacook totem poles, to modern day town selectmen denying Destiny & Choc-o-lát the opportunity to tempt gravity in 12 inch stripper heels.
I’m not the most religious chap, but even I can see what’s happening here. God is always one step ahead in this grand chess match. You deny him Destiny & Choc-o-lát, and he answers with Pole Fitness, eventually turning every chick in town INTO Destiny and Choc-o-lát. Well played, God.
“Even though the certified personal trainer says her clients have fun and there’s nothing sexual about the workouts, she will close the curtain over the windows, just to put the room at ease.”
“I think there’s a little bit of an interest,” she said, adding quickly “It’s not dirty…”
You can’t hate on Tracy Elston’s passion for pole dancing, but I think its up to us to decide what is and isn’t sexy. You’re probably going to have to do more than the removal of the stripper glitter and the $10 cover charge. Better keep that curtain up.