On the Down and Out

Being a stripper is getting harder and harder. The money is slowly getting worse and it isn't getting any better. People always think: Stripper = Lots of Money. Well it's getting worse. It's getting slower and slower. The biggest reason why I make money is because I have regulars I call in. But the money is getting worse and work is getting slower.

I need to make as much money as possible in the next few months to a year, so that I can quit. I want to be done in one year. I want this so that I can have one year of normal college life. Also so that I'm not wasting my time working as a stripper making less money than I should.

I'm guessing that stripping will always be a way to make money. It will always be a place to go because it is "taboo" or a bachelor party destination. The days of really good money are coming to an end. I think this is a combination of the recession, and internet porn. Damnit. Porn is ruining my life.

Work Is RUINING My Life!!!!!

So I have decided that my job is ruining my life. (Other than the psychological and emotional distress I experience every day of my life.)

There's this guy that I danced for once or twice a week for about six months. Really nice guy, sometimes brought his wife in. Anyways I haven't seen him in about two months cause I hate working Tuesdays. He was a fix-it-guy for a college half an hour from my school. Well turns out he got a new job... He is now one of the campus fix-it-guys at MY college. All the fix-it-guys have lunch with the students! Yay... I see him everyday at lunch. Gee my life's awesome. Not to mention I see him twice a week at the library and because I work at the circ desk right in front of the door and part of my job is saying 'hello' to everyone I have to be nice and greet him. 

Last weekend I went to the midnight premiere of Taken 2 (which is awesome by the way... it's not possible for Liam Neeson to be in a bad movie). I went with two of my friends and we had a good time. Except for the fact that at the theater a guy I know from work was there, who has a crush on me and wanted to ask me to prom six months ago... yes, he just graduated from high school. Instead of doing the smile-nod thing you do to people you know but don't want to talk to he walks right up to me and my friends and starts in on a very awkward 15 minute conversation... I could not get away from him. I would try and he'd follow. 

Oh my God!!! Work is ruining my life. It follows me everywhere. No escaping it. I have worked there too long if I am constantly running into people I know and they feel that they know me well enough to come and talk to me... And my friends!!!! 

FUCK.

In Relation to Yesterday's Post

So yesterday I was complaining about my uterus causing me pain... Guess what!!! It hasn't stopped. No in fact it has gotten worse. I'm still thinking about ripping my uturus out, but now I have expanded that to include my ovaries as well. Two internal organs that are completely useless.

When I tell people this they always say something to the effect of "You won't regret it when you hold your babies in your arms for the first time." (Please include a very soft, feminine, nurturing voice. Something akin to... nothing like mine.) My response is always "I'm sure. If I wanted children."

When I've looked forward to my life it's never included children surrounding me in the picture. I love children sure, but do I want them. Not really. I love babysitting them, playing with them, and then handing them off to their parents. To me kids say a lot of work, time, effort, and selflessness. I sound like a terrible person when I say 'I am all about me.' But I am. I have never had the desire to live my life for someone else, and the moment you become a parent that is exactly what you (should) do. I have things that I want to do and accomplish and children get in the way and hinder me from doing that. People always say 'You'll change your mind when you get older.' People have always said that to me, and so far it hasn't happened. People tend to think that because I'm a woman I innately want children. Wrong. My friends think it's because I don't want to ruin my body by being pregnant. Wrong. I think that would be the cool part about being a mom, the rest not cool. My friends tell me 'don't worry you can adopt'... Except for the fact that it will still have the same ending. Me with children.

To make matters worse my whole life is filled with people that want nothing more than to be parents. All my good friends want children. I have a hard time understanding why. On an intellectual level I get. Emotionally, no way.

To make matters worse Jamie wants kids. That stereotype that girls are the ones that want kids and girls have to talk guys into wanting them.Total crap. Every guy I've ever dated wants to be a dad. I don't get it! But because I want to keep Jamie in my life forever I am going to have children. My theory is that I will love them once I have them. But up until that point they seem like a waste of time to me.

I think that borders on heartless, but true.

I still want to rip out all my girly parts.

Work.Period.Pain.Gross

Here's my latest problem. I haven't worked in over a month because I hate my job.

The longer you stay away from the club the harder it is to go back. I've been putting it off for a month. I need to go in because rent has to be paid today. Well the check won't be cashed until tomorrow or Saturday so I should be fine. I have resigned myself to going into work today for a double... Yay thirteen hours. My big problem is the fact that my period just kicked in, two days early, and it's a rager. I'm sitting at the library right now trying to concentrate on my book for tonights homework and all I can think about is ripping out my uterus and replacing it with something more convenient like an extra kidney or liver. My legs hurt. My back hurts. My stomache hurts. And this period seems to be one that is also giving me a migraine. I don't like it and I want it to stop.

If I just had to go to work it would be fine. I could deal with that. But my PERIOD too! NO I disagree. Life should not put both work and period on me at the same time. It's too much. I don't want to go to that place and I sure as fuck don't want my period to down the day even more!

Oh and I'm missing homecoming festivities because of my crap job.

Me...

I have this problem of walling myself up. Not letting people in. I really don't like people knowing who I am. I let people see what I want them to see. The get the revised version of myself. The nicely polished edition. The version people see is that nice, new American History textbook. The edition where we gloss over the Native American massacre, the racism and slavery, the religious persecution, the ethnic persecution, and all those other bad bits of our history. The edition that shows the Americans as being the saviors of all. In every day life I leave out the bad parts, the gruesome stories that know one wants to hear, the imperfections, the moments where I fuck everything up, the times where I'm the really bad guy.

This blog makes me nervous. I am trying with all my might to show the truth. To show me. The real me. The good me. The bad me. The in between me. The unsure me. The sad me. The scared me. The me that has no clue. The self-conscious me. The betrayed me. The hurt me. The vulnerable me. The mean me. The completely and totally imperfect version of me.

Every time I hit the publish button I have a pit in the bottom of my stomach. The one that says "You'll be judged. You'll be a pariah. You're problems are too much to handle. You're not worthy of anything. You don't deserve anything that you had, have, will have or want." I'm putting everything out into the world for anyone and everyone to see. I'm nervous. I still want to be perfect and polished. I am giving over a small amount of control every time I push that hugely intimidating publish button.

What I Want

It's taken me a long time to realize why a part of me likes my job.

It's the reason why I acted when I was little. It's the reason why I loved dancing as much as I did. It's why I love singing. It's why my tragedies are conveyed  through humor. I love entertaining. I love making people laugh. I love making people feel something.

In my every day life with my friends and my family, for the most part, I like to be in the corner. I like to be over-looked. I like playing second fiddle. I like to disappear. But the moment the lights dim and I'm on stage or the focus. I part of me comes alive. When I acted as a little girl, I made people laugh. As a dancer I put so much emotion into everything I did that it didn't matter if I was a beat behind or not as technically good. The audience felt my dancing. They knew what I was saying. It is one of the few moments that I open up and let everyone in and let everything out. When I sing, truly sing, I've moved a few people to tears. (I'm hoping it's because I don't completely suck. If that is the reason, then I should probably stop.) Before people get to know me, I mean truly know me, I come off as, my friend states it, "overly sweet and caring, a meek person, someone that can be walked all over, unassuming, mediocre, always quiet and just plain nice." When I'm acting, singing, dancing that person doesn't exist anymore. I surprise people. They see me. Not the person I want them to see.

There has always been a part of me that hungers to dance and sing. It's always been my dream. One that nags at me, eating away at me. I see people my age and younger who are so successful, for the soul reason that they are going after their dreams and doing what they have always wanted to do. I've never been able to go after those dreams. I don't know if it's because I'm too shy. Or if it's because I've never had the opportunity or support. Or if it's that I'm too scared. Or the fact that I can't stand being let down more than I have been. Or if I don't want to let people in. Maybe all of them combined. Because if I take a moment to truly admit it to myself. I really think that I may have enough talent to succeed.

The only reason I like stripping is because in those few moments on stage when I'm not naked and just entertaining. In those few moments all that I am doing is entertaining through actual dancing or making people laugh. I enjoy making people feel something. Sometimes I like being the center of attention. I wish I could entertain in the real world. I wish that something could compel me to stand on a stage and sing. I wish I could dance. I wish I could give a performance that makes someone feel they're not alone. I wish that I could give a performance that changes my life. I wish my dreams would someday be something more than what I know they will always be... Dreams.

And occasionally, I make myself feel something.

Procrastination

Right now I'm sitting at Starbucks... Writing my multicultural psych paper... I have my name down and the date it's due. My first paragraph has a nice little paragraph going on. It reads: THIS IS WHERE MY PAPER IS STARTING... WHEN I HAVE AN IDEA... SO YEAH... YAY CULTURE! That's kind of it. I'm being so productive. I've only been sitting here since 5:30 a.m. GOD it's so fucking early.

I got two hours of sleep last night. I'm sick, by the way. I was in bed watching TV while Jamie was asleep next to me. Vera texted me telling me Alexis' boyfriend cheated on her, in front of her. I then texted Alexis and asked if she wanted me there. She said no, which meant yes but I know you're sick. I waited about 45 minutes. I was gonna get out of bed to go be with her after my TV show finished (I'm a lazy friend sometimes). Anyways she called me and asked me to go to the bars so that I could be the over 21 sitting at the table with the beer. I shot out of bed, grabbed a dress out of the closet, tossed my hair up, put on random shoes, and ran down the street to the bar. I walked in and gave her a big hug. I sat down and had the realization that even in a major rush I manage to match. How the fuck does that happen??? I'm even sick and I manage to grab one of my cute outfits. At the table there is a pitcher of beer and four glasses. Alexis ends up drinking most of it. But before she does one of my friends, Fay, hands me a glass full of beer. I look at it and look at her with a, probably, confused look on my face. The thought through my mind was "What do I do with this?" Fay responds with the clearly obvious implication of the drink being handed to me "Drink!" Alexis looks at her "Dude she doesn't drink, and not definitely not beer. Plus she's uber sick." I continue along my thought process of "How is it that I'm so naive to not think of drinking beer when it's handed to me. I am so incredibly dull it's not even funny."

Anyways, by the time I got back home from being the designated drunk person, without the drunk part, it's about 1:00 am. I couldn't fall asleep cause I was still so mad at Alexis' now ex-boyfriend I was up for another hour. Then to be at Starbucks by five we were up and out of the house by 4:50. And I'm still procrastinating my paper writing...  

Where Oh Where Can It Be?

I am on my period. And my big predicament of the week has been the loss of a tampon.

I had to work and when you're on your period and stripping you have to cut off the string and shove it WAY up in there. If it's not far enough in there then it will fall out. If it's too far in there then you risk losing it. Anyways I was hanging out in my dorm room with my three good friends. I was going to work in a little while and had just put a tampon in... We were having fun and all of a sudden I felt something. I went and looked. No tampon. My vagina swallowed it. My friends were freaking out a little bit. I was kind of "whatever" about the whole thing. Anyways. I said I'd wait for it to come out... You know, give it three days.

I walked into class and one of Jamie's fraternity brothers, and a good friend of mine, asked what was wrong. I responded with "I lost my tampon." "Can't you go get another?" "Not that kind of lost." "Wait you mean..." he made an upwards motion with his hands. "Yep. My vagina ate it." "You need to get that fixed. Have Jamie go get it out for you."

I went to work and put a second one in because I still had to work and couldn't bleed everywhere. That would be a bit off putting.

When I got home, Jamie was already asleep. He couldn't help me hunt for it, so I took a long hot shower and searched for it myself. Suffice to say I had to scrub all the blood from under my nails and the bath tub looked like it had just played a lead role in a horror film. Oh yeah, and no tampon.

I went to bed. Spent yesterday hanging out with my friends. My two friends decided to tell the entire table at lunch about my predicament, and for as "tough" as they are the whole lost tampon thing kind of weirded them out. They all told my I ABSOLUTELY HAD to go to the doctor. I didn't.

Later that evening I went to put another in and lo-and-behold it was finally found. Anyways that tampon spent two days bonding with my vagina and I was happy to have it located. My friends were all relieved to hear that I wasn't going to die of toxic shock syndrome.

It's not the first time I've "lost" a tampon and I highly doubt it will be the last.

Blog

Today I was supposed to go to work and I was going to. I have lots of health issues. Jamie decided that I needed to start taking vitamins. Well I took all of them about half an hour before going to work. Ten minutes later I felt absolutely terrible. Why? Well the multivitamin I took has zinc in it. I can't take zinc because I have a mild allergic reaction to it in large quantities. Suffice to say I couldn't go to work. 

I'm feeling better now, not great but better. Anyways I came across this post from a blog:

http://jezebel.com/5938960/the-art-of-the-national-convention-strip-club-trend-piece?popular=true&post=52307562

I thought it was hilarious.

I agree with them. When you mention strip clubs or the fact that you're a stripper there is nothing but questions and interest. I've stopped bringing it up because people want to know what it's like and what happens behind closed doors. The question that always comes up is "So are most of the girls drug addicts/alcoholics?"

I'm not overly talkative today. I could say more, but I'm too damn tired.

Ending Conversations

In my line of work people like to ask personal questions. I don't like to talk about myself. Hell, I don't like talking about myself to my friends, at least not anything personal. When people I don't know nor like want to know about me. I end the conversation.

I've become good at ending a conversation with one line. There's an art to it. You have to give them what they want to know, but put it in a way that they won't ask any more questions.

Generally no one will ever ask me a personal question after I do this. There's this one guy though from work. I hated him anyways, but he decided he wanted to get to know me better. He started asking questions about my sex life. Which I can't stand anyways. He asked me how old I was when I lost my virginity and if I loved the guy or if it was a one night stand. I told him I was raped. Instead of the conversation being over he kept going. He got excited by the fact I was raped. He wanted to know more. He wanted to know how it happened and how many times. He's the kind of man that should just die. The world be better without them. It's interesting though. He went from being excited about me being raped to talking about spending time with his granddaughter. It just makes me wonder.

More

I'm 21 years old. I look at some people today who are my age and I look at myself. They have accomplished so much in the same period of time and I feel like I have done nothing with my life. I'm going into my junior year in college and I strip to survive. There are people that have done so much with their lives and have followed their dreams, and I feel like I'm just getting by.

I have so many things I want to do. I've always wanted to achieve something. It feels like my life is done before it's even started.

I want something more out of life than normal. I want to be more than just an ex-stripper or a mom or a wife. I want my life to be more.

Work

I haven't been to work in almost a month because I was visiting my best friend, Vera. When I got home from that trip I had to go visit my parents. I had a whole 32 hours at home when I had to rush back to my families because my dad had to have emergency surgery. So in a whole month I've only been at home for a couple days. I haven't seen Jamie much. I should go into work today, but I wanted a moment to just be at home. There's cleaning that needs to be done, but all I can seem to do is watch movies. I did work at my other job this morning, so I'm not a total lazy ass.

It seems that even when I have a day off I can't seem to completely get away from work.

A guy that I know from work from several months back texted me. Somehow he got my phone number and decided to contact me. He wanted to know if I would get together with him outside of the club. He and his "girlfriend" just broke up. His "girlfriend" is a dancer that I know. I know for a fact they weren't dating. Men lie. They lie to me all the time about dating a dancer or sleeping with a dancer to try and convince me it's okay to meet them outside of work.

Any ways... It just gets old. I feel like I never actually have a day off. Somehow these guys get my phone number. Three girls have it and they wouldn't give it out and the club doesn't have it. So it beats the hell out of me how they get my number.

Shame

Have you ever felt shame? I'm not talking about the shame of disappointing your parents. Or the shame  of showing up to prom in the same dress as three other girls. Or the shame of getting a good grade.


I feel a deeper shame. A haunting shame. This shame runs deep. It's not a one-way shame, but a shame that strikes at every turn. This shame does not rest; it follows. This shame is my shadow. It follows closely behind. Attached to me. Unlike a shadow, it does not fade at night. As the dark grows stronger so does my shadow. It grows strong enough to walk before me. I become the shadow to my shame.

This past year in class I read a book called La Honte is a French novella, memoir, history. It was unusual. And honestly, I wasn't a big fan. It's great and all, but it hit too close to home. (The title translates into English as "Shame." I've never been able to admit it until today. My life has been driven by shame. I have felt shame for all the pivotal moments in my life. The moments, the defining moments that make me who I am. Finally I have been able to grasp at my shame. At 21 I've had pain in my life that I would never wish upon any one. This pain was hidden then covered then buried. My pain walked hand-in-hand with shame. Except I never knew I was ashamed. Shame was the shadow to my pain.

For the first time in my life I have had no choice but to accept my pain and deal with it. I have been swept over with emotions that will not stop. I can't make them stop. Even though I bitterly want it to all stop. For me it has always been easier not to feel... Anything.

The first time I felt shame lasted nine years. I suffered from depression. The first time I felt shame was when I was awake at late one night at eight and hoping that I would go to sleep and never wake up. All I knew was children were supposed to be happy and hopefully, and I was neither. I buried the shame and lived with the pain. I tried to end it all several times. This added to my shame.

At fifteen I was felt up by one the heads of my school. Shocked and hurt I told my mom. She's never been the shining ideal, but this was the moment when I felt most alone. Completely stranded in normality. Abandoned among the people who "loved" me. When I told her she responded with "Let's wait and see if it happens again. Then we'll report it." This came from the woman who was supposed to protect me. Who had always said that she would kill anyone if they touched me without permission. She let me down in the biggest way possible. I lost all trust in her. I promised myself that I would only count on myself. I made a vow that I would never depend on anyone for anything. I ran. This was the moment that my life changed forever. This was the first time I felt sexualized.

At fifteen I was ashamed that I didn't want to live. I was ashamed that I had tried to off myself twice. I was ashamed I had failed twice. I was ashamed my school administrator had touched me. I felt ashamed that my mother, was no mother at all.

At seventeen I decided that I had enjoyed my last birthday. It wasn't worth it to me anymore to keep trying. My entire life I had battled alone and I didn't want to any more. My mother had abandoned me two years before, but I had to see her face every day reminding me what I was worth. I felt unloved and unworthy. At seventeen I met the boy that would change my life irreparably.

Clay was fifteen and I was seventeen. Long story short he told me he loved me. I didn't love him, but I wanted someone to love me. Two months into our two year relationship he bent me over an ottoman and raped me. After he was done with my underwear still around my knees he put an elbow on my back and called his three best friends telling them he'd lost his virginity to the girl he "loved." For the next two years it was constant. If I didn't "willingly" have sex or blow him, he'd hit me til I did. Or threaten to tell my mother we'd had sex. (At this point in my mother's brilliant parenting career she had said that if I had sex in high school I would be kicked out on my ass with nothing.) For two years I stayed with him. He said he loved me... Plus who was I going to tell. All of our friends knew about our fantastic sex life. What would my mom say? "Well we'll see if he rapes you again... Then we'll talk about reporting it." No one was going to believe me. I was ashamed that my virginity was gone. I've never been a save sex for marriage person, but I wanted it to be special, or at least consensual. I felt shame that my boyfriend raped me. I felt shame for staying with him the first time it happened and the second. I felt ashamed that I was so dependent on the words "I love you."

At the end of our relationship I cheated. I slept with someone else. I needed to say "yes" for the first time. I slept with a guy friend, he ended up saying "I love you" and I ran. I was ashamed that I had cheated. I felt pain because this was the first time I had had sex and it was with a random guy.

I gave myself a vacation in California the summer I graduated high school. I ran from the pain and the shame. I drowned myself in men. Men that I would never talk to or see again. Except I actually fell in love, as ridiculous as that sounds. He lived 2500 miles away. I was taking no chances after the last boyfriend. I went off to college with my very cute, loyal, long-distance, Navy boyfriend. Things were looking on the up-and-up for me. I made friends with one of my dorm-mates. He was from Iowa, sweet, quiet, easy-going, and a wrestler. Long story short, I'd never been friends with jocks and I shouldn't have started in college. He and I were best friends. My boyfriend new about him and was happy I had been making friends. It became a campus wide non-secret secret that he wanted to be much more than friends. We had a sit down and talked about how I was not going to be with him because I loved my boyfriend. We came to an agreement, and I went home with him for a weekend because we were friends. Well my best friend raped me in his house, in his bed, while my long distance boyfriend called to say goodnight. I really know how to pick 'em. None of my friends at college believed me. I'm a bubbly person to everyone, and they decided to tell everyone that I was giving him blue-balls and leading him on. They told everyone that we'd had sex and before I'd even got back to campus I had no friends left. I was so broken and hurt and alone that I cut off the one person that cared. I broke up with my long distance boyfriend so that I wouldn't have to tell him I'd been raped. Everyone was saying I cheated on him and at the time it was easier to say goodbye and accept a lie than to tell the truth.

At nineteen almost every nightmare I had survived hit replay in reality. This time it was set on fast forward. Instead of taking eleven years for everything to come to itself pain filled, shameful climax it took two months for my life to go from normal and happy to completely alone. Due to my reality replay being on fast forward I cried for one night, said "I've been raped before. This is nothin," I made new friends, and moved on. Actually I just buried the new pain and shame way down deep with all the same-old, same-old.

True to form. I got myself a new boyfriend. This one also changed my life irreparably. Meet Jamie, the man sleeping in bed next to me right now. We survived five months when I had to take my job.

Jamie and I have been together over a year and a half. I've been stripping for over a year. Most of our relationship has been throughout the stress of my job.

In the last two months I have worked my ass harder than I have ever worked. I have put up with so much bullshit that when I was in London for the first time in a year and really my whole life I had a moment to step back and look at my life with the support of someone who truly loves me. I delayed my complete and total break down until after we got back from London. In London I was surrounded by literature, and the book I kept going back to was the book I distinctly argued against in class La Honte.

London is the city of the modern world and history. It was my dream city. I loved every minute. But I often caught myself thinking "God. I hope they don't find out about my job." I've never not told people what I do. I would rather own up to it than hide from it. In London I was haunted by my job. It was always in the back of my mind. Shame. It started on the first day in the plane. These elegant British women started up a conversation and all I was hoping was for them not to ask what I do. I blended into the British sophistication of London, but I felt like a was a cheap, fake. Lesser. Lesser because I had bought my ticket, bought my dinner, bought my nice clothes, paid for my hotel with dirty money. Painful money. Secret money. Shameful money. I hurt. I knew why I was there. I was there because I had taken off my clothes, let men touch my body everyday, one hundred hour weeks, for a month.

Before we left for London, when I was working those hellish days, I started eating less. I slept less. I woke up earlier. I thought it was because of my work schedule. I forgot. I had run so far away from my past that I had forgotten the pattern. When I was in London I didn't eat much more. The shame and pain of my job were eating away at me. It took me four days to completely lose my composure. I haven't really stopped crying sense. I've gone into work three days. All I feel is broken. Everything that I have worked my whole life to hide, cover, and bury won't stay locked away. Anytime anything remotely mean is said I cry, unless I'm at work and then I just get mean. Jamie is trying his hardest for me, but even when he's sweet I can't stop myself. Before brushing our teeth and crawling into bed, he hugged me. I couldn't stop crying for fifteen minutes. All I could think of was that he deserved better. Than being close to him hurts so much I can barely breathe, but I can't let go of him. All I can do is cling to him because with him is my last shred of sanity.

For the first time I can truly say that I am ashamed. I am ashamed of who I am. I am ashamed of my experiences. I am ashamed of what I do. I am ashamed of my pain. My logic and intelligence tell me that everything I am ashamed of I shouldn't be. I am not at fault for my depression. I am not at fault for either of my rapes. I am not at fault for my mother's inability to parent. And I am most certainly not doing anything wrong by stripping. I can't help what I feel though.

I'm broken. I'm empty. I am still the shadow to my shame.

...

Yesterday I had a man who asked me if I had a boyfriend. I wasn't in the mood to play nice-nice, so I told him the truth. His response was "Who would ever want to date a stripper. You're hooker with the added benefit that you can dance. You're someone else's trashy left-overs. Who would ever want you."

What I Deserve

I have been back from London for ten days now. I have only been able to drag myself into work twice. It's hard. I really need to go in more. I have bills to pay. They have to get paid. I've been dealing with a lot of stuff since I've been home.

I don't sleep well at night. I lay in bed next to the best man. He loves me in spite of everything. I lay in bed thinking that I don't deserve him. Most nights I leave bed and go sit on the couch for hours reading. I try to keep my mind off of my job. If I think about it too much I throw up. I don't want to do this anymore. I hate it. I feel disgusting. I feel like less than a person. I feel like I don't deserve to sleep in the same bed as Jamie, or even have him touch me. He deserves better. He deserves a girl that is only seen by him, that is only touched by him.

It's a job, but I every time I walk in there and parade around in underwear, I feel like I'm cheating on him. He tells me that it's all an act. It is. It isn't me personally, but it's still my body. They still touch me.

Time Off

I have taken some time off from writing. If you've read past posts you know that I had been planning a trip to London. Well I am back from London now.


I took time off from writing because while I was in London, Jamie and I did not talk about my work or his the entire time. I also adopted the not writing method as well. It was extremely nice not thinking about work for a whole twenty days. 


Now I am back in the United States and I am facing the inevitable... I have to go back to work. I should be on my way there right now, however, I have decided to take another day off. I can't bring myself to go there right now. I want to hold on to a few more days of peace and quiet at home. I want to hold onto my vacation mind set for just a few more hours. 


I'll be back into the crappy club on Monday. I'll write more later. 

My Frustrations

With as much as I've been working I'm compiling a very, very long list of things that frustrate me. Last night was terrible. I worked a double and made $550. This is not bad money. More than I would make in two weeks working minimum wage. Keeping it in perspective: normally I can make this much money on a Wednesday before nine at night. Anyways. Working nights frustrates me. For so many reasons.

Young guys frustrate me. They travel in groups. They like to try to bargain for dances. They want to try and find the best "deal" for their money.

This is what happened. A young guy, sitting in a group asked me to come over. I sat down next to him. He said he'd give me a private dance if I'd give him my underwear. My underwear cost more than a private dance does. Dancer's underwear aren't cheap. Then he wanted to try and get me to give him a "taste" of what a private dance is. He wanted me to do a table dance for three dollars. I don't do them for less than five. He wanted me to give him a private dance with the money he gave me while I was on stage because it was still his money.

Uptight women frustrate me. They like to drain the fun out of everyone with them. They judge the strippers. They try to make everyone feel bad around them for being at a strip club. 

I was told to go down to the second stage after my first set. There were six people down there. Three men and three women. They were in their late forties, early fifties. I found out they were three married couples. When one of the guys told his friend "Go put a dollar up there for her" because no one was paying me at this point in time. The one woman decided to glare at me and yell at her husband "If your ass gets out of that chair, I will divorce you so fast."

Most of the night shift dancers frustrate me. They talk crap about everyone. They want to hurt everyone's feelings. They try to steal customers away from someone else. 


The girls were talking crap about a very good friend of mine. They were saying that she lets guys stick their finger up her asshole. This is not true. They told one girl, who is very sweet and is self-conscious of her stretch marks, that she was an ugly fat bitch that doesn't know how to dress herself. I have a regular that comes in and only sees me. He only spends money on me. Several girls have gone up to him and told him that they can do things for him that I can't. That's tame in comparison. I've had girls steal hour-long VIP's from other girls.

Old men that think they're hot shit frustrate me. They try to get more than what they can. They try to convince girls to do things for them.


I had one guy a week ago that knew about my trip to London. He is older and thinks he's pretty amazing. He decided to ask it in this way first "Well, I was wondering if you wanted to get together with me outside of here, so that I could give you a couple hundred dollars for your trip." I don't do that. While in private dance he said "You know I meant we would do this outside of the club. Nothing illegal." I told him "Getting together outside of the club means lets go to coffee and I'll give you money for your company. You're a complete idiot if I would go anywhere private enough to do this with you or anyone else."

I'm frustrated after rehashing all of this.

Toll

I have been working a whole lot lately. Every day for doubles (12-14 hours) like I have mentioned in some of my latest posts.

This past week it has started taking a toll on me. Emotionally it took a toll awhile ago (but thanks to my acupuncturist it, is hasn't been so bad). Well I was in on Tuesday. Tuesdays are hard days to work 12 hours because they are two-for-ones all night. Pretty much twice the work for half the pay. I try never to work Tuesday's because it is too much work. With London coming up in four days I've been working non-stop. Tuesday at 8:30 I started feeling really cold. The pre-fever kind of chills. The manager of the club sent me up to VIP to take a nap on the comfortable couches because I looked so bad. At 9:45 I woke up and HAD to go home. I took a really hot shower because I couldn't get warm and then I crawled in bed. When Jamie got home from work he didn't know I was home and crawled in bed and could feel the warmth radiating off of me. I had a temperature of a 105. I woke up in the middle of the night with excruciating pain. I woke up the next day at 1:00 when Jamie got back from working at Starbucks. He told me I wasn't going to work that day. (Which was the smart thing, but I didn't want to agree.) I ended up having to stay home on Thursday too because I still couldn't stand up quite right.

Because of my sudden onset fever I had to lower my money making goals to what Jamie and I truly NEED for the trip... Sans extra activities. Now I'm at work and it's still really slow, so I'm stressing about making the bare minimum.

The other downside of working doubles at the club is I haven't really seen Jamie in two and a half weeks (except for the two days where I was in a fever induced coma). I come home and crawl in bed and fifteen minutes later he has to get up and go to work. We're both too tired to even cuddle we just hold hands. And when I work Thursday-Saturday the only time I get to see him is if I stop in at Starbucks after I get off work. By the time he gets home from work I've already been at work for six hours. We live in the same house. We sleep in the same bed, but never at the same time. Our house is a sea of ever passing ships.

Funny Things Guys Say In Private Dance

I'm working nights again, which I haven't done in nine months. The people that have been here as long as I have are shocked to see me at night because they know I'm a day girl.

Anyways working nights again, I'm running into all sorts of interesting people again. I remember them from my previous night experiences, but it's one thing remembering and another going through it again. On days there isn't a whole lot of variation in guys and what they say, it's all pretty similar. Here is a list of the highlights:

"Oh sexy pants, you know the way I like it."
"This point in the last dance I had a naked pussy getting my nose wet."
"Just let me smell your pussy."
"So... I'm not aloud to play with myself?"
"What's wrong with you? Why aren't you turned on right now?"
"Really? You don't want to see my cock?"
"You're too adorable to do a private dance with."
"Slapping your ass is like slapping jello... Just enough jiggle."
"Oh yeah. Bounce bitch bounce."
"I could take you home and lick you from North to South."
"You're really beautiful from the front but when you turned around all I can look at is your glory hole."
"Let's play a game. What did you learn at school?"
"So I can't stick my toes in your mouth?"
"So when do your panties come off?"
"How badly do you want my cock in your mouth?" (from and 82 year old)
"Why don't we leave here and hit the motel for free."
"It's my Birthday, why don't you make this extra super special."
"Oh... Private dance isn't code for sex... Damn it my friends were right."
"So would you play with yourself while you dance on me?"
"I want you to have a good time too."
"My wife never rides me the way you do."
"Your enthusiasm is inspiring."
"My wife won't blow me anymore. I even shaved for her. Do you want to see?"

Well those are some of the highlights. I'm at work as I write this, and a friend of mine helped pitch in some of her favorites. We had a few good laughs.

Death

I am dying... Not literally. But I feel like it. This has been my schedule: 

8:00 am: Wake up

9:00 am: Go to work

12:30 pm: Get off work and eat lunch 

1:30 pm: Get ready for work

3:00 pm: Be at work

3:00 am-5:00 am: Get off work

4:00 am- 6:00 am: Go to bed

8:00 am: Repeat

It's terrible. I am working my butt off and getting very little sleep. And work has been so slow that I can't make money for the life of me. My regular isn't coming in this week. My days are the same every day that I can't distinguish one from the next. I need to make $4200 more in 9 days for London and it's just not working. It's not for the lack of effort. I'm here more than anyone else. (12-14 hour days, JUST at the club) I'm working harder than anyone else. The upside is that I am making more than anyone else, but it's not saying much when no one is making any money. 

I feel like death because I am working so much and sleeping so little. To top it all off my shoes are broken and I REALLY need new ones, but I'm not making enough for bills let alone for new shoes. I just need two really good nights and everything would be okay. I keep hoping. If anyone is ready this, please put good thoughts out there for me. Because I leave for London in 12 days and I have to pay my bills and have money to eat while I am studying. 

On the upside because I am working so much, I'm losing weight. I've gained a little bit since going on birth control again. It's been upsetting me, and all the exercise is helping me get into shape! Yay!!!