'Come and stand in front of the mirror and pretend to be a pole,' I said to Husband. 'I want to see what a pole dancer would look like.'
The worrying thing was that he didn't even ask why.
I told him anyway. It's the birthday of one of our Zac's regulars and he has a ministry to pole dancers. Or, at least, he worries a lot about the temperature of their poles. So I thought this would be a good cake for him. I tried to draw a cartoon version based on wrapping myself around Husband but that didn't work out so I - very nervously - googled pole dance classes. Turns out there are any number of them - and flipping hard it looks too.
I found the silhouette image, printed it off and cut it out. I was about to start cutting the icing to shape when Husband said, 'Her boobs are too small.'
'Probably because she's an athlete not an exotic dancer.' But I took his point and enlarged her bosom - and her bum as I was about it.
I suppose I could have done a Pol(-ish) dancer but that wouldn't have been quite the same ...