Last week, I 'fessed up about all the barriers I was creating for myself in getting to the burlesque class I'd been longing to attend for a year. I was fear the least graceful, most uncoordinated, terribly out of shape, jiggliest worst. But the good news is, I went anyway.

I followed my friend's advice to view it as an experiment, as a one-time research project in the art of the strip-tease, as one hour of my life. And then I begged my husband to keep pushing me out the door, even if my nerves bubbled up and I could list a million other things I could be doing during that time in the studio. As he smiled and pointed to the door and said, "JUST GO!," I dutifully packed my bottle of water, banana and checkbook and headed to the studio to meet up with the other students of burlesque and belly dance.

My first sigh of relief came when I opened the door and turned into the lobby, where a bench full of women who looked very similar to me were seated and waiting just as anxiously as I was for class to begin. My second sigh of relief came when I sat down on the studio floor next to a nice woman who flashed me a nervous smile.

"First time? Or have you taken this class before?" I asked.

"Oh God," she answered, "I just called my boyfriend from the lobby to talk me down."

"Good," I smiled, feeling the ease seep in, "Let's stay next to each other!"

She was game and we smiled sympathetically to each other every once in a while when one of us missed a step or stepped on the other person's boa.

Oh yes, there were boas. This was full-immersion burlesque and the teacher, a porcelain-skinned and lithe beauty who was friendly and chatty and encouraging and challenging, got us right into the choreography. Well, right into choreography based on an hour of floor work and warm-up that made me sore all weekend.

Then came the boas. And the elbow-length gloves and plenty of show-casing and sass. After catching a glimpse of myself in the mirror, I decided that I could get through and have fun with it if I didn't study myself. So focusing my gaze on my teacher, I booty-bumped and hip-scooped and sashayed to my heart's content. After 90 minutes, I was sweaty and sore and very proud of myself.

I've only been to one class, but if I'm going to get myself into shape, I am pretty sure that burlesque is going to do it. And almost as good, I proved to myself that, with a little time and encouragement, I can cross over my fitness obstacles. I just didn't realize it would take feathers and satin to get there.

What fitness barriers have you hurdled this week? Share your success stories with us!