What's shocking about Fulbright's advice isn't its premise — going to strip clubs as a couple isn't really all that kinky, though I'd question whether said clubs are usually "somber" or "reserved." It's her "9 Reasons" why couples should engage in this "threesome of foreplay." To whit:

1. There's no work involved.

Foreplay becomes a breeze even before you take your seat. Lovers often find themselves sexually excited at the mere prospect of going to a strip club. Yet this arousal goes far beyond pre-game show titillations, with lovers already anticipating what will happen once they get back home.

Really? You have to drive to the strip club, watch a show, drive home*, and then have sex, at which point the woman will probably have cooled off enough that some actual foreplay is still required. Is this really less work than just going down on her a little?

Then there's this:

4. The experience can make them feel sexier.

By identifying with the stripper's sexuality or desiring it, lovers can feel more wanton in the process. In other cases, where a stripper looks particularly haggard, a woman may come away from the experience feeling confirmed (and relieved) that she's more attractive than the gal on stage. After all, the slight jealousy that can be fueled by the experience acts as inspiration to outdo the stripper at some point.

So basically the point of going to a strip club is to reassure yourself that you're hotter than the used-up old slutbag on the pole. Nice.

9. It puts a woman's mind at ease.

Even if they don't like watching their men get turned on, some women would rather know what their partners are doing than be left wondering. Accompanying him to a strip club makes her feel like she's more on top of his sexual liaisons.

[...]

Remember, flexibility is key, as the rules may need to change once you're inside. Seeing strip club fantasies become reality can be difficult for some. It may tap insecurities for some, while the sight of often sad, blank-faced strippers evokes pity from others.

For an article that initially seemed like it would be stripper-positive, Fulbright's piece actually presents one of the nastiest views of stripping I've ever read. Apparently strippers are "often sad, blank-faced" vehicles for the harmless titillation of nice girls — girls who have boyfriends and husbands and would never think of taking off their clothes for money (they do it for exercise! In pole-dancing class!). The whole article carries a whiff of classism and moralism even as it advocates something the author claims is "taboo." And Fulbright's claim that going to a strip club "puts a woman's mind at ease" seems totally flawed. The experience a man has at a strip club with his partner is likely totally different from the one he has by himself or with male friends — by going with him, a woman is creating a whole new sexual situation, not eavesdropping on an existing one. This isn't to say that seeing a stripper might not be hot for some couples — but those who would do so out of mistrust or a desire to feel superior might be better off seeing a therapist. And anyway, the best way to get "on top of his sexual liaisons" is probably the most literal one.

* I guess this doesn't apply if you have sex in the strip club bathroom. Or if the strip club is actually a sex club — but somehow I don't think Fox News endorses those.

FoxSexpert: 9 Reasons Strip Clubs Can Spice Up Your Sex Life [Fox News]

Thanks to the reader who tipped us off to the Flirty Girl Fitness workout system, which allows you to join in the pole dancing workout trend right in your own home. Why waste your time doing unalluring exercises like running or lifting weights when you could be giving your body a makeover with workouts based on "the world’s sexiest dance moves, from music videos, club dancing, even exotic dancing?" Check out the commercial below to learn how you can liberate yourself from non-sexy workouts, or check out their website to order your own pole, feather boa, and lap dance-inspired workouts for just $259.94.

Some of the girls are in debt, so the natural decision was to fall back on old habits and earn some quick cash through stripping. Kayla, who is a veteran stripper — with the body stocking to prove it — filled up on booze to help with her nerves. She ended up getting so hosed that she took her clothes off for free on the floor before the contest started, then ran outside into the parking lot naked, then barfed her brains out, then had to be taken to the hospital. On a brighter note, the other roommate who entered the contest, Sarah, won first prize. Silver lining! Clip above.

• A poll of British mothers reveals that 16 percent of respondents have a favorite child and 50 percent love both "equally but in different ways." • A claim that steroids may prevent a third of miscarriages raises questions about how normal early miscarriages are for women who are trying to conceive and if they need to be "cured." • A study of young girls and boys reports that boys with conduct and oppositional defiance disorders had lower heart rates and sweated less than boys without those conditions while playing a money-making computer game but girls showed no physiological differences while playing. • Concita de Gregorio appointment as editor-in-chief of one of Italy's most prestigious newspapers, L'Unita, signals the rise of women in the workplace in Italy. • The soccer players of FC de Rakt, an amateur Dutch women's soccer team, all play in short skirts (over hot-pants) because they feel that the look is both more "elegant" and comfortable. • Residents of San Francisco are split over a new proposition that would make prostitution legal in the city: The city's health department backs the proposal but the Mayor and DA say that it will ruin neighborhoods. • An internet advice site about divorces in the UK says that 10% of divorces happen during the second year of marriage and "online divorces" are contributing to a "throwaway" culture. • The "upscale bums" of Beverly Hills benefit from the neighborhood's rich residents but must "act respectful" and not be turned off by the wealthy in order to not get attention from cops. • A judge in Texas has ordered a woman to stop bearing children as part of her 10-year-probation after the woman admitted to not providing care for her 19-month-old daughter after the child was severely beaten by her father. • Computer models that are commonly used by doctors to determine if a woman would benefit from genetic testing for ovarian and breast cancer have underestimated the probability ofAsian women having a genetic mutation that could lead to cancer. • The various relationships between a Saudi woman and her driver all reveal a deep frustration with the inconvenience of not being able to drive themselves. • Why have Crayola crayons removed their old smell from their products? • A trading website for mothers in Australia called Mum Swap encourages free trading (instead of spending) of goods and services from clothes, babysitting, tips, and vacation homes. • High-class escorts in India are sharing in the country's booming economy but they are also evidence of the rising focus on materialism for women in the globalized economy. •

• The Indian city of Pune has banned the wearing of scarves while driving, under the theory that a scarf can be a terrorist disguise. Women's response: a scarf can also help you breathe in polluted, dusty Pune. • Most TV might make your kids think that Dad's incompetent, Mom's a saint, and women love yogurt. But can some shows actually help parents raise good feminists? Check out the discussion at Feministe. • Scary science: high prepregnancy BMI can increase the risk of brain and spinal cord defects. The good news: it doesn't hurt the baby's heart. • More scary science: high BMI may also decrease survival rates for breast cancer. The good news here: moderate drinking increases survival rates. • And some bad science: Dr. Chuck MacKnee claims that sex between committed Christians is more "holistic" than Tantric or Kama Sutra-style sex, "involving full body gratification as well as emotional and spiritual highs." His sample size: ten people, two of whom were pastors. • A city in central Japan had its Belly Button Festival this weekend, featuring an awesome dance in which "revelers paint a face on their torsos and stomachs and pretend it is a head." • And finally, from the department of the purely ridiculous: name analyst/professional weirdo Laurence Y Payg claims his name advice catapulted boring Laura Hollins into supermodel Agyness Deyn. His main technique seems to be adding y's, and he would like to help out another British star by transforming her into Amy Wynehouse. •

The founder of the studio is a onetime actress who played a stripper in a movie and found that she not only lost the weight following the birth of her baby but a road map to self-actualization. Her "journey" began there, going from the installation of a pole in her home to setting up studios across the U.S. to instruct women to embrace their inner strippers and celebrate/exploit their sexuality for their own betterment. Pole-dancing as a means to self-discovery? I had my doubts. After the jump, my day as a pole-dancer.

The studio itself is nondescript, except for the boas hanging from the ceiling, and the corsets, stripper shoes, and thigh-highs on display and for sale. The other women look normal and seem nervous: browsing the racks, comparing garter belts, giggling excitedly. Our instructor, a petite African-American woman who looks to be in her 20's, guides us to a dimly-lit room with candles and a bordello-esque red lamp. Yoga mats are arranged in concentric circles. After choosing a place on which to sit, our instructor begins to tell us her story. NYU graduate and former head of a marketing consulting company whose crippling insecurity was solved by stripping, through which she learned to shed both her inhibitions and her clothes.

We learn a little about one another as well: In my class there is a young woman in her 30's going through a divorce who is hoping the class will help her rebuild her confidence; her friend who said she realized she had hit her 30's and wasn't in touch yet with her sexuality; several graduates of Mama Gina's School of Womanly Arts; a woman who says she simply always wanted to try stripping; and of course, me. I tell the class that I work from home and am looking for something to help get me going. "Oh, we'll get you going!" hollers the instructor. The other women join her in applause. This must be what AA feels like.

At last, class begins. We begin the warm-up, which is comprised of standard yoga/dance/Pilates moves... except for the one devoted to slapping our own asses and screaming. The moves are given sexy stripper names and we do a lot of them. One, meant to exercise the abdominals, includes the exhortation to "explore your curves". "Feel your breasts! Feel your neck! Feel your thighs! They are your curves! Love them! You look beautiful!" the instructor encourages. Clearly, the instructor has no idea that I am convinced I am moments from death as I furiously pedal my feet in the air while balanced on my ass only, groping myself all the while, praying I don't tear a hamstring, and wondering how badly I will be mocked on this site if I were to die right here and now. After we're done feeling ourselves up / working our abs, we are instructed to lounge seductively on our sides, our heads propped in our hands. "Every woman looks beautiful in this position," our instructor intones. "Let's take a moment to explore our bodies while in this position. Just close your eyes and focus on your body. She is beautiful. Listen to what she is telling you." I feel like I have stumbled, unwittingly, into The Vagina Monologues.

The instructor then talks us through the ever-important "stripper walk": Right foot over left, drag one foot to meet the other, weight shifting from one hip to the other. "You should look like you've had a few too many to drinkl!" we are told. Then comes the moment we've all been waiting for: The pole. Our instructor approaches it and effortlessly swings herself around it, then does it again, this time breaking down the motions. I break out in a cold sweat. I'm up first. I trip doing my stripper walk, take a preliminary strut around the pole, and then begin my swing. I have lift off! But then I freeze, plop my feet down on the ground, and land standing up dead-straight. "Stick your butt out!" the instructor encourages, "When you stick your butt out, you own it! When you stick your butt out, you always look good!" (A few minutes prior we'd been informed that our breasts should always arrive at the party a few minutes early and our butts a few minutes late.) Now it's time for me to give the pole a second shot. This time I succeed. The instructor gives me a big high five and tells me I will be even better if I only stick my butt out more.

The other women take their turns. The divorcee and her friend who wants to get in touch with her sexuality are naturals. I hate them immediately. This is no different from ballet class, it dawns on me, where your only option is to hate yourself because there are other women in the room and your performance can only be measured in comparison to the others. It all just makes me sad. When the girl who "always wanted to try stripping" takes her turn, for instance, she is less than graceful on the pole itself, but then finishes her trick with an over-exaggerated, RuPaul-esque finish, working her hands up all over her body, wiggling her butt out in a hyper-feminized moment of performance. And though she finishes with the biggest grin on her face and says how amazing it felt, I am not proud for her that she feels good even though she doesn't (none of us do) hold a candle to the divorcee's friend who is tall and blonde and looks like she was born to do this. No, I feel a strange empathetic hurting that she needed to grope herself up in front of strangers to feel beautiful, yet alone accomplished.

The final portion of the class — a cool-down, perhaps? — involves a "dancing" routine: We stripper-walk to a wall, press up against it, stick our butts out, roll our hips, turn around, and then slowly grind our way down the wall until we hit the floor, at which point we get on all fours and do our best "sexy crawl." We do this several times, to music of various tempos. In between sets, the other women start cooing about how liberated they feel. I can't help but feel kinda silly. Who would ever want to see me do this? Despite all the talk of loving my body and being proud for women everywhere, I think that anyone who has ever or would ever want to see me sexually sees me that way because I'm me: Clumsy, geeky and usually outfitted in giant sweaters and leggings. To pretend otherwise isn't empowering, it's just disingenuous. Nor would my female friends would think me a stronger woman. We already support one another, like when someone gets the raise she worked really hard for, or is willing to take a risk and put her heart out on the line, or drops everything to be there for her friends and family. These things make us feel good. And they take courage. Pole dancing? Well, that just takes a skimpier wardrobe.