Lindsey v. The Zombie Apocalypse  

To hear the dramatic reading and analysis of this blog from Trina & Jess, check out Episode 22 of The Champagne Way Podcast.

Ok… so I’m only probably admitting this because I am feeling under the weather and I took some sinus medicine and took the medicine for life (champagne). BUT pre baby I thought about the zombie apocalypse a lot. Maybe it was my infatuation with “The Walking Dead”, maybe it was my morbid curiosity of death and what happened after, or maybe I am just crazy.


Before I had Rori, the thought of running from rotting flesh parasites was normal. I mean, was my mortality even an issue? I think I drunkenly told an Uber driver that I was hoping the zombie apocalypse would arrive any day. I blame this fixation on my fitness aspirations. You see several years ago, I was looking for a new fitness regime that could actually bring me back in the door for more than a week. Luckily for me, my sorority sister, Nicole, started a new fitness business that involved pole dancing.


You may be wondering what the zombie apocalypse and pole dancing classes have to do with each other. EVERYTHING!


So in case you never have taken pole dancing classes (which is a travesty), the first thing you learn how to do is climb a pole.  Yes, this is akin to climbing a rope in 8th grade gym class (something I still cannot do), but is a necessity for pole aspirational dreams… or at least moving on to the next move. Yes, some people would learn to climb and dream of doing a new spin or a dramatic drop but the only think I could think about was were would I use this in real life. Hence… the zombie apocalypse.


Here is how I envision it:

The world is agast and half are dead. The zombie disaster came out of nowhere. Most of the world is gone. The other half have either learned how to survive or have been in a coma for a few months and awoke to find the world in dismay.


At some point I find myself in a predicament and I’m running from the undead. Where do I go? Where do I hide? I see a pole. A stainless steel, non-rusted pole. It can’t be too thick (that’s what she said!). Also I have to have a lead on the zombies. Just in case you have never taken pole dancing lessons, to climb a pole is a prepatory gymnast takeover.


First you can’t have fabric over your thighs. You have to wear little booty shorts or some form of underwear that leave your (or at least my flabby) thighs free. Secondly, they cannot be sweaty. I have this special cream that dries my thighs out so I can climb on a whim. Then you climb. You climb with your legs. Push up with your arms and pull up with your legs. It’s relatively easy after that and you can sit on the pole for hours as long as you don’t perspire. And I say hours, but I’ve probably sat for about two minutes until I got bored and slid down.


So needless to say I would have to be way ahead of the zombies, which would be unrealistic as I can’t climb the stairs without getting out of breath.  Then get to the pole site. Remove my jeans, which could take more than five minutes if I am in my post birth body. Then lather my thighs up with cream that will not allow me to slide. Then I would climb and sit. The daydream always goes differently from this point. What would I do at the top? How long could I stay? Did I pick a pole close to the roof of the next building?


As you see there are a lot of questions that still need to be answered. My post –baby self does not think about this at all. Or if I do, it does not end well so hopefully this will not happen.