Managers

I have realized that the manager and assistant manager at my club are stupid. They don't know how to do their job the right way.

Right now the club has experienced a 50% drop in revenue in the last four months. How you say? The managers have stopped doing their job. (Actually they started stopping around the time I started working there... But now they have just decided to take a nap or zombie-style stare at their computer screens their whole shift.) The big boss has started to step in, but he hasn't added anything that has proven to be helpful. I think they need to get a bouncer and a dancer (both of whom are well educated) to run the place because we know how to do it the right way.

So while the managers are taking a big crap on the job, I'm working my ass of for one dance because lets face it, there's one guy in the club and I need that dance.

Merry Christmas. I have no idea how I will pay the fucking bills. Thanks for doing your job.

My New Year's resolution: Win the lottery and leave this fucked-up, hell-hole for ever and ever.

The Effect of Stripping

Never once have I hated myself... Now I do.

I Hate My CoWorkers

I'm sitting at work and I just found out that a good friend of mine unknowingly took my regular. This guy is/was a nice guy and would spend money on me just to talk. He's going through a divorce and has three kids. He liked talking to me because of my smile and the fact that I was genuine and cared about what he had to say.
Well a friend of mine and I shared this regular. This friend told me that my regular is now my good friend's regular. He paid me $75 a week just to sit and talk. I found out that he is spending $1100 a week in VIP on my friend because she's pushier than I am.

If I would have known he had that kind of cash to spend I would have been pushier too. I am so mad right now. I need that money and that was MY regular. You don't take a friends regular.

Just Barely

I'm working at a club that used to be fantastic. But in the last six months it has declined so much in such a short period of time. I used to be able to walk in and make $400 in five and a half hours without even trying. Now, I can't make that much money if my life depended on it.

Last night I worked my first double in months. Usually when I work a double I make upwards of $600. Last night I worked. I was on the floor the whole night and talked to EVERYONE. I only made $95 during the twelve hours I was there. I have never done so poorly. That's a little bit over minimum wage.

I can't afford to quit, and right now I can't afford to work either. It's ridiculous. I don't know what to do.

I'm thinking about travelling and seeing if there is better money in other areas that are still fairly close by. I'm trying to save for the future so that I can quit and have almost all of my senior year in college without stripping, but at this rate I won't be able to quit because I can't even make enough money to pay for my monthly bills.

I'm just really happy I have regulars and I know enough people to make it by.

Late Night

I've been up for almost 24 hours.

Jamie is in Florida right now. He's doing testing for the Marines. We always fall asleep together. Right now, I am completely incapable of falling asleep in our bed without him.

So, instead of sleeping I am watching the show Satisfaction. It's an Australian show about a brothel. I'm watching it and other than the fact the girl have sex, it's the same as my job. I like this show better than most portrayals of the sex industry because it's real.

I'm going in to work tomorrow for my first double since July. It won't be fun, but I have to work more often than I have been. It will especially suck because I fell and fucked up my knee... Knee's are really important when you're dancing.

Oh Mom...

It's the weekend after Thanksgiving and I'm at home with my family. My mother decided that we would go out for an after dinner snack at a sushi restaurant. The owner is a friend through the cycling community. When we got to the restaurant the owner came and chatted for a moment. After the dinner rush was gone the owner came and sat with us. We chatted for three hours. (Including an hour and a half after the restaurant closed.) At one point in the conversation my parents asked where he lived and he gave directions. He said "It's not classy, but the biggest landmark in the area is Big Earl's." I didn't know what that was, so I leaned over and asked my brother who said "it's a strip club." When I sat back up my mother was glaring at me. And the owner didn't make the situation any easier when he narrated what just happened and added to the end "it's a good thing you don't know what that is. It means you're on the straight and narrow." My mother glared at me even more.

Well, good to know my mother still hates me a little.

Haircut... Oh Crap

I was trying to think of a new post, and I was going through all of the posts I've written previously. There was a post a little while back about how my job is interfering in life, and a new example came to me.

Last year, about a month after I started stripping a girl and two guys came into the club. It was a kind of slow night so I sat around and talked to them. She stuck out in my mind for a couple reasons. First, she was very nice and sweet. Second, she and her friends biked there because they were preparing for RAGBRAI and because my little brother is a cyclist we had a lot to talk about. Third, she was the kind of person you don't easily forget. And fourth, she was the first woman I ever gave a lap dance to. I don't know why, but I remembered her name.

A year ago I went into one of the nice salons in town and scheduled a hair cut. It was my first time at the salon and I didn't know any of the stylists. I was scheduled with someone, and when I showed up she looked familiar. Oh crap!!! I figured where I had seen her around. At that time I was working in a store at the mall and saw a lot of people. Well while the stylist was cutting my hair we started talking and we ended up talking about RAGBRAI and I realized... I'd given HER a lap dance. 

I didn't bring her visit to the strip club up... you know cause it might of been awkward or something. I don't think she recognized me. It doesn't surprise me that she didn't recognize me. Mostly because she was so drunk that night that I would be surprised if she even remembered her first visit to the strip club.

I really can't go anywhere without seeing someone I've met at the strip club... Gross.

Noble Stripper

The other day I sat down at the lunch table in the middle of a conversation. Vera was talking about how her good friend is a stripper with a baby and a pill addiction. She was saying that her friend had never wanted to be like her mother, but in the end has turned out just like her mother. She was saying how awful it was that her friend was a stripper and it was the worst thing. I was sitting right next to her as she was saying all of these things. She turned looked at me and kind of did one of those "Oh God, but, you know, not you, it's different, you have good reasons, you know what I mean." I wasn't offended because I did know what she meant.

Later that day I told Jamie all about the conversation. He started laughing and replied. "Yes you are NOT a pill stripper. You are a noble stripper. Stripping for noble reasons."

Well there you have it. I'm not a pill stripper.

Magic Mike

So today I watched Magic Mike in its entirety. As I'm watching it I'm kind of confused. The portrayal of stripping is both glamorous and serious. Except the serious part comes in with drug use, and yes that's part of stripping... depending on the person. The movie makes the job out to be pretty alright. Except there's one glaring thing for me. They don't show that it has an affect on the person at all. Other than the affect of partying. It does show that it is hard for the family members. My big thing with the movie is that it's more work, more serious, and more depressing than they let on. Although in some ways it's realistic. I just watch movies about stripping and think to myself. GOD there needs to be a realistic movie about stripping.

Anyways. I went to work last week. It sucked. No one was there. I was supposed to go in today and work a double except the fact that I had a paper to write and finish up this scholarship application. I'm hoping to go in tomorrow as long as class doesn't run long.

Tired. I've been writing essays all day. Night night.

Best Intentions

I had the best intentions of going into work today.

Jamie and I have been together long enough that we don't really have individual possessions anymore. We both own both of our cars which doesn't seem like a problem. Except for the fact that I never bring my dancing stuff into the house. I keep it in the trunk of "my" car. This morning Jamie took "my" car, which is the new car that has the best gas mileage. He usually works in the morning at Starbucks and then comes home over the few hours he has until he goes to his next job. I didn't realize that he didn't have a long enough lunch break to come. So he is at work with the car that has all my work stuff.

Unfortunately I can't go into work today. Damn...

That makes it a whole month since I've been into work. I'm not at all disappointed by this long sabbatical, I am however starting to get to that point where I need to make money again.

Oh well. I'll be going into work tomorrow, for sure... Probably...

Never Gonna Happen

I haven't written in awhile because I have been trying not to think about work. Writing about work when I'm banishing it from my mind doesn't help... at all.

Jamie and I have been going through a rough patch. Nothing too serious, but one that needed to be dealt with sans work. So I haven't gone in.

I am now writing because I am dealing with the fact that tomorrow I am going to work. Because I need to get my ass in gear and make money for bills. Yuck.

Anyways.

I took a non-fiction writing class last year where I wrote about my job extensively and it was cathartic. I didn't just write about my job, I wrote about me. It wasn't supposed to be a memoir class, but I turned it into one. What can I say I'm egocentric. (If you haven't guessed that already. I have blog entirely devoted to myself. I'd say that's a bit more than egocentric, probably closer to completely self-centered.) I liked writing about my past and my issues. It helped me process them, and my classmates were shocked by some of the things I said. I like getting things out there to be talked about. Especially the things people don't want to, or don't like to talk about. I want to call everything and everyone out and say these things happen to people. It's not just something you hear on the news. These things happened to me! You know me! They're awful things and painful things. Let's talk about it. Let's change this, so that your daughter, sister, brother, nephew, cousin doesn't have to go through it.

My professor was visiting the college just for that class. She is an author who writes memoirs.

My professor from this class pulled me aside and told me that I had a voice. I had a voice that had something to say. She asked me if I was going to write a book. I said "No, of course not." I had never thought about being a writer. I was a reader. I'm a literature major. Not a creative writing major. I'm a terrible writer. I get in front of a computer screen to write, or even a pad of paper, and I think "Well shit." The last day of class, after we were all finished, my professor pulled me aside again. She told me "You need to write that book. You may hate doing it, but you have to. You have no idea how important what you have to say is. No one has said it the way you are. Write that book. You may not know it yet, but you are a writer. People will know your name." I gave her a smile, and told her it was great getting to know her. The last thing she said to me as I walked out the door was "I'll read it someday. Write that book."

I left thinking. That's a novel idea. Never gonna happen.

Ever since then I have read more and more memoirs. I love them. Most of the people that write memoirs become famous first for something and then write a memoir telling their story of how they got there. Some of their stories are interesting. Some are pretty boring. My favorite memoirist is Aayan Hirsi Ali. I've read all of her books. If you don't know her, go look her up. Right now I'm reading Salmon Rushdie's new memoir. Very recently I read Firoozeh Dumas' memoir. Out of all them hers' got me thinking the most. Aayan Hirsi Ali and Salmon Rushdie are both extremely well known. They have both done incredible things and have experienced incredible hardships. Firoozeh Dumas' hasn't. At least in the context of most "incredible things." She has not had a fatwa put on her, or been a member of parliament. But she wrote a best selling memoir.

The last year ever since my professor told my to "write that book" I haven't been able to get it out of my head. Any time I thought seriously about it I have always thought 'where would I start? I don't know the first thing about writing a book. I only know analysis papers. Even if I wrote a book how would I even get it published. No one would be interested in it." Anyways. All of these things are still true.

An hour ago Jamie was sitting at the computer playing video games. I had just finished my third book this week and started in on Salmon Rushdie's memoir Joseph Anton when I was suddenly struck with exactly what I wanted to say in the prologue of my memoir. I don't know why or where it came from, but now an hour later I have three pages saying things that I have always wanted to say but never knew how. I don't know if it will ever be published or read by anyone but myself. What I do know is that I am writing THAT book.

Or at least I'm going to try.

Pieces

I feel like my life is falling to pieces.

A few days ago Jamie's best friend shot himself. I've known his friend for about a year and a half. We clicked the first time we met and had become pretty close friends. Jamie isn't talking to me about any of it. He would rather get drunk with his friends then deal with it with me. Maybe I'm being selfish, but I don't think getting drunk is the best response to this.

I feel like my relationship is crumbling. We haven't been doing great for the past several months, and with everything we're going through right now it is all coming out. Jamie and I have planned on marriage and kids for a long time. It's hard because he's the one that said forever. Now it turns out that he's not sure if that is going to happen. He still loves me, but he doesn't know if I'm his future. It turns out he started feeling this way awhile ago. He looks at me differently and acts differently around me. He's growing more and more distant, and I feel like I can't do anything about any of it. It all started when he stopped caring if I went to work or not.

It kills me. He doesn't care, and I do. Everyday I walk in there I cry. I lock myself in the bathroom and cry. It's hard not to. I would do anything to quit, but I know there isn't any way I can quit right now. Jamie thinks that if I'd never started I would never had to. No matter what, I would have had to make a lot of money a year, more than I could doing anything else.

I feel like everything is my fault and I know there is nothing I can possibly do. I just have to sit back and watch my life fall apart knowing there is nothing I can do to make it better.

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!!!

Oh Honey

Yesterday I was at work with my laptop. I'm working on writing a piece when one of my co-workers needed to borrow my computer. She saw the title and started reading it saying "My... vagna...

mon...log... ooee" She then turned to me and asked "Whats a monlogooee?" Well the words were vagina and monologue. She's 24 has two children and can't read well... And has no idea what a monologue is. It's difficult for me to understand how and adult is unable to pronounce/read simple words like this and have no idea what they mean. 

My response was "Oh honey." And explained. What else is there to say? I don't want to be mean. But really!!! 

I Can Do Better

The thing that irritates me most is when snotty girls come into the club and sit at the stage. Most girls that come in are fine, but there are the few that suck.

It's a lot of fun when you're on stage and you hear a girl voice saying "Oh, I can do that." "I can do that better." "I don't understand why this is so special I can do that too." "Okay that might be a little impressive."

My response to this is "Can you do it as well as I can? After 11 HOURS of doing this?" I said this. Her response was "Wait... 11 hours? And if it's so easy why the hell aren't you up here taking your clothes off for money?" Her friend replied to the stupid girl "Shut the fuck up. You can't do any of it. You can barely stay up eleven hours let alone work for eleven hours." My response was "thank you."

How Much For Sex?

I'm at work right now. Because of my upcoming trip to London I am working every day for 12-14 hours. It's tough, but I am making pretty good money. First of all, today has been a great day. My regular, who I haven't seen in a month, came in. (Yay!) Stages have been amazing. The best part of my day: I got a VIP. This is the second I have ever had, and I've been doing this for over a year now. (I celebrated my anniversary a week ago.) I didn't have to work for it. He just asked. So for the day shift, which is six hours, I made $400. I'm into hour 8.5 of 12 and am at $470. (That's after tip-out, night shift house fee, and tomorrow's house fee.) So good. I really need everyday to be like this. I don't even need it to be this good, but better is ALWAYS good. This irritates me so much. It wouldn't be an issue if it happened once in a blue moon, but when it happens several times throughout the week and even the day, it gets old. I am a stripper, not a prostitute.

I took an hour break to get out of here for a little while. Fresh air, errand run, call Jamie. I came back and was put on stage immediately. I made $40 on my first stage. The moment I was off stage I was taken to private dance for two songs. Good things. Except the whole time he kept trying to suck my boobs, touch my pussy, and more importantly "Sex? What cost?" If you haven't guessed, he's a foreigner. I said no several times and said that I don't do that. He then decided to put a price on it; like that would change my mind. "One hour $1000." No. "Half hour $1000." No. "One hour $2000." No. "Why not?" No. "How much for sex?" Never ever gonna happen

Walking Masturbation Machine.

Private dances are my least favorite part of my job... Other than the men. There are MANY different kinds of private dances. My favorite are the dances are when we sit and talk. The next best thing is having a guy that wants me to dance for him, but doesn't want to touch me because he's uncomfortable with it. Next is the dances where there is touching, but the kind of touching that is soft and gentle (this doesn't bother me that much because they are good guys... generally). The next is a private dance where the guy is really rough. (Sometimes leaving bruises and even worse draws blood.) The absolute worst, however, is when the guy grabs me by the hips and makes me go forward to back on his crotch or bounce up and down. This is what I call the masturbator. These guys only come to the club so that they can get off.

That last kind of dance is the worst. There is nothing good about these guys. They make me feel like a walking masturbation machine. I already feel like crap about my job. Thank you for making it so much more obvious what I do, and what my "true" purpose in life is... as a woman.

Lucky

I try not to talk about Jamie a lot at work. I don't like mixing those two. It's hard to talk about work with him because he hates my job. I hate it too, but sometimes I need to talk about it. I hate talking about him at work especially to the men. When I do, it makes me feel more like a whore than usual.

I bring Jamie up for two reasons.
-The first reason is used far more often. I bring up Jamie to distance myself from the guy. They start getting touchy-feely in the creepy "I want to date you" kind of way. So I bring up Jamie and how we're very, very, very serious and completely and totally in love. I also make sure to tell them that no man will ever even come close to comparing. With the this the guy has one of two reactions. The first reaction is that the guy gets pissed off and wants me to leave him alone. Which I am more than happy to comply with his wishes. Or the second reaction is the more common and the one that pisses me off "Oh... Well you make sure to tell him I say he's a really lucky guy." Here's the reaction that goes through my head: "I'm not going to tell him that! How dumb are you? Telling him he's lucky that I'm awesome, from a guy that is paying me because I'm a stripper. Oh my God! You're a genius. That's totally what gets him going. Being reminded that I take my clothes off for money." Here's my real reaction: "Thanks." I get up and leave cause the guys a douche.
-Second reason is to bring myself closer to a guy. I the case of a regular there comes a conversation, farther down the line where they want to know about my personally life. In order for them to feel like they have my confidence and are truly getting to know "me" I tell them about Jamie. I make up fake problems that we. They feel like they can help me talk through them. This allows us to be "closer" and then I make more money. I hate talking about Jamie, but in this circumstance all they get is his name. They don't learn anything about him. They still tell me "he's lucky."

Lucky. He's lucky that I make a lot of money because I take my clothes off. He's lucky that other guys get to touch me. He's lucky that I flirt for a living. He's lucky that thousands of men have seen me naked. He's lucky that something so personal is there for any one to see if they pay the right price.

I don't know how he deals with it as well as he does. He's special. He can keep living and keep loving me even through this job. He is stronger than most. I'm going on my anniversary of working at the club. Jamie and I have been together almost a year and a half. I have been working for twice as long as we've been together. It's hard for me. I don't know how it's not killing him.

You know Jamie is a real lucky guy.

Naked

I just got out of class. I should have gone into work, but I ran into two of my good friends. I ended up sitting and talking to my friend MJ. We have two more days left of school. Tonight she has her performance art piece. For the piece she is naked and wrapped in cellophane and walks down the aisle. At the end of the aisle she breaks out of the cellophane and walks back out of the room naked.

My reaction was: That takes so much bravery. I could never do that. It's weird because I'm naked in front of hundreds of people that I don't know. She's doing it in front of people that know her, support her, and love her. I do it in front of complete strangers that only want to have sex with me. I can't get naked in front of people at school...

For me there is a huge separation between work and my life. In life I am never naked and a prude. I'm actually somewhat conservative with the way I dress. At work, I show everything off. I separate work and life so much that I have no idea how any one can get naked in front of people. The moment I walk into the club though, it's different. I can show it all off, and walk around in underwear.

I'm naked. I'm naked at the club literally. In life I'm emotionally naked. No one can tell because I hide it well. But I'm always on the brink of crying when things get hard. And if I'm honest... They are always hard. Being naked in front of a crowd is easier than being emotionally naked. I can bare showing my body. I can't bare showing my feelings. It's too open. It's too raw. It's me. I don't want people to know me. If they do, it's too difficult to keep up the facade.

I compartmentalize. I have to. There's work, and there's life. I talk about work often in life, but it's with a touch of humor. I don't think about work much because if I do it is too much to bare. At work I talk about life but I don't think about it. If I don't compartmentalize my life into two distinct sections I wouldn't be able to muddle through. Half the time I think that's what I'm doing. Just surviving.

Friends

So tomorrow I have to go to work. :( Oh well. I have to get used to it because I will be in the club six days a week next month... Yay!

Anyways, tomorrow will actually be a fun day at work because my three best friends are coming! None of them have been to the club before, so they are all excited, but a little nervous. Vera is the most torn. She's excited, but she also knows that I'm going to be using her to make some money. She's not sure what I will be doing with her. So it's fun for me because she's a little nervous. I'm going to make Alexis take a couple shots before we go, so then she will loosen up and have a bit more fun.

I'm looking forward to it. It won't be as lonely. They will also understand more clearly what my job actually is. And they will get to know who my "club" persona is. They haven't seen it, and it will be nice so I won't have to describe it.

I'll let you know how it goes! But YAY!!! I get to share this part of my life with my friends.

Boredom

I'm so bored and I have nothing to do right now, so I thought I would write a post. I was just thinking about a regular that hasn't crossed my mind in about six months.

I live and work in Iowa. I wouldn't think that Iowa would be a huge business destination, but I have a huge number of clients that are from out of state. I tend to do really well with this crowd. I like them best of all too because it's usually their first time in and they don't know the rules. This means that they won't touch me because they think they will get in trouble. They're also more likely to be lonely and more interested in my conversation. They also have more money, on average.

I met this regular last June. He came in two or three times a month for five months. He was from California. Most the time he stopped in when he was in town for work, but sometimes when he had nothing else to do and wanted company, he would fly to Iowa just to me.

There's a turning point with regulars. They can go one of two ways. The regular forms an attachment that is of the romantic sort. You need to cut these regulars because these are the ones that will turn into stalkers. They can also go the way of friendship. These are the ones that come into the club that want company and just to talk. They  no longer get dances. These are also the ones that you can convince to help pay your bills. We keep these regulars.

Anyways my regular from California started going way of stalker. I eventually had to tell him I no longer wanted to see him any more. Because he lived in California I was pretty safe of never seeing him again.

I don't know why I thought of him today, but I did.

21

I am preparing myself...

To turn 21.

I should be excited about this, but I don't know. This number holds so much weight in society. It's the "Congratulations you're finally an actual grown up" Birthday. For me it's just another day. I'm not huge on celebrating Birthdays, at least mine anyways. I love celebrating other peoples. My own just seems so over rated.

I've been planning my 21st birthday for almost fourteen years. I was seven and out to dinner with my family. Another table had ordered a bunch of umbrella drinks. My seven year old self was very much attracted to these umbrellas and wanted one of those drinks. My dad told me they were for grown ups and when I turned 21 I could have one. I asked him what it was called and he told me "Mai Tai." I told him "When I turn 21 we're going to have Mai Tai's together." My dad laughed and said he'd be there. Here I am the day before my 21st and I will be leaving to go home tomorrow morning. I'm going on a double date with my younger brother and his girlfriend for lunch. For dinner, almost fourteen years later, we are going back to that restaurant and my dad and I will each have a Mai Tai. I'll go back to school and probably do homework. I'm sure it's one of the more laid back 21st Birthday's, but it will be nice.

The other day I had been teasing Jamie that on the way back from my parent's house we should stop by the casino, that is on the way. That way I could get my first time gambling out of the way too. I was joking because I don't like wasting my money. He's taking me serious and we will be stopping on our way home.

Unlike Jamie, I will remember my 21st Birthday.

Minimum Wage

It's May and it's a really bad month to work... or be in need of money. It's finally warmed up outside, so everyone wants to be outside doing outdoorsy things. They don't come into the strip club.

Up until this month, my worst day ever had been when I made $60.00 in a six hour shift that is still ten dollars an hour. This month, I have left three times making less than $25. That's less than minimum wage. I get NAKED!!! I should be making far more money if I have to get naked.

People always think that strippers make lots of money. Most the time, I do make quite a bit of money. There are lots of days when I make minimum wage.

UGH!!!

Saturday Night

I haven't worked a Saturday night in over five months. Last night I did... And it was awful. Usually the club is packed with upwards of 500 people. (Five hundred being a slower night.) There might have been 250 people in at its peak. No one made any money. I went home with $200 and that was a lot better than what most people made last night.

There were 52 girls in last night. I have never seen so many. I went up on stage once, and I didn't get a single private dance. It was terrible.

Last night was interesting though. I had a few realizations. First, there aren't many girls working that have been there longer than I have. Out of the 52, there were only five that pre-dated me. A lot of the new girls know who I am, but they've never worked with me. Everyone was commenting that they were happy to see me and were very surprised that I was there. During day shift everyone treats eachother pretty equally, but at night there is a hierarchy. Last night I was given the respect of a veteran, and that felt weird. I feel like I just walked in a few weeks ago myself. Second, I found that I don't know how to work a night shift anymore. It's been so long, I was having a hard time. Third, I realized I am very convincing and determined.

I've been wearing the same clothes at work for a year now. Pretty boring and basic. Nothing special at all. Since I work a lot of day shifts, I don't need to be flashy and new and sparkly. I can wear a tight t-shirt and boy shorts and everyone thinks it's grand. At night, you have to be better than that. So, with the very little money I had before work, I went shopping for three new outfits. If you get to know me outside of work I wear lots of bright colors, but at work it's a lot of black. Well I bought a green outfit, a purple outfit, and a white and black polka-dot outfit. People seemed to respond well to it. ...If only there had been more people.

I got to work at 8:30. My make-up was already done so I was on the floor by nine. At ten I ran into a guy I haven't seen in a few months. He doesn't get dances, which is fine because I enjoy talking to him. He left at 10:30 and I had $40 in my pocket. I didn't make any more money until my stage set at 1:30 in the morning. (Normally on a Saturday night, I would be on stage two or three times.) My very first stage there was a bachelor. I went over to him. His friend said "Beat his ass." I wasn't in the mood so I said no. I said congratulations and gave him a kiss on the cheek. As I did, he hauled off and hit my ass. It hurt. Immediately, I open handed him on the side of his head as hard as I could. He was stunned and said "What was that for?" "If you hit me, I hit you harder." He kept trying to put dollars on the stage and I ignored them. He got pissed and told the bouncer I hit him. The bouncer knows me well and asked "Well what did you do to deserve it?" When I got off the stage I had a medium pile of ones. I was sitting and sorting them when I guy came up to me "Hey you're rich you can go home now." I looked at him "Look around. It's crap. I am barely making minimum wage." He looked at me "It's not how much money you make it's how big the pile looks. That's all that's important. It's not like you have anything to buy but drugs and alcohol." I walked away.

After stage and putting aside tip out and house fee, I had $100. Remember, I did not have a single private dance and only one stage set, and yet I went home with $200. How did I make that extra hundred you ask. Well that is determination. A few days ago I had been told that I should tap into my blue eyes. Well 3:30 hit and I still only had $100. That was not enough I said.  I needed more. I sat down on the guy's laps. I smiled my dimply smile and looked them very squarely in the eye. Not in a "stare down" way but in a "I'm so enthralled with what you're saying I can't take my eyes from yours." After a few minutes I would say in a whispy, meek voice "Would you like a private dance?" While slightly raising my eyebrows and widening my blue eyes. No one had money at  this point. But everyone grabbed their wallets to check. "I don't have enough for a dance..." I would look down and then up saying softly "Well that's alright." As I would motion to go they would hand me all the money in their wallets "It was so nice talking to you." I would kiss them on the cheek and say good night. I did this until I had $200. I feel a little bad about taking their last money, but I never suggested or asked. They gave. I need to use my eyes more.

Inner Circle

It's been awhile since I've posted. Sorry! I've been working twelve hour days at the club and I haven't had much time to write.

I've been working at the club for almost a year, and I finally feel like I have been accepted into the inner circle. The inner circle is made up of the girls that have the highest earnings, the girls that no what they're doing, these are some of the best girls in the mid-West. Skill wise and money wise, I'm on the same level, but I was never accepted into the group. And I never figured out why. I had thought it was because I was still new, and they didn't trust me.

Work has been very slow this past week. Yesterday there was a long period of time when there was no one in the club. Lately the top earner, and the most respected girl at the club, has been talking to me. She and I have a long history, and I will get into that in a later post. Yesterday she told me that she did not want to talk to me or help me out as a beginner because of my potential. She saw in me an ability to make more money than anyone else. She never wanted to help me because she knew if I tapped into my potential, she would start losing money. She views me as her biggest competition. She had everyone else keep me at arms length.

In the past two weeks I have gone from being on the outside of the inner circle to being on the inside of the inner circle. I never thought of myself as being the competition. I've always been there to make money. I keep my head down, so I don't step on anyone's toes.

It's a little funny. I hit the point in my "career" where all I want is to be done, and that is the point where everyone starts to accept me. It doesn't make the job any easier, but at least I know why I was treated so poorly for so long.

Will It Get Better?

I need to be sad for a little while because my life is overwhelming right now. I realize my life is not terrible, but I feel like it right now. I am going to vent all of my frustrations and feelings. This doesn't happen often, but sometimes I need to. And the two friends I need right now are out of town.

First of all, and this is the most pressing, I have a heart condition and I'm going to London for two weeks this summer. How do these two relate? London costs a lot of money to go, and I need to make a lot of money. My heart condition has made me take almost four weeks off of work because it has been acting up. So, in order to pay all of my bills and go to London I need to make damn near $9,000 this month. That is soooo much money. I'm stressing out so much. London isn't just this fun trip either, I got into a translation program that could end up making my career. So, part of it is a vacation, but the reason why I'm going is for my education/future.

Second, Jamie dropped his phone, iPhone, last night and it broke. So that's $150 that we didn't have that we had to spend today. I'm not mad at him; I'm just mad that all I do is spend money and never get to put it towards savings, the trip, or things I want/need.

Third, Jamie forgot how much money he had and what bills needed to be paid. (Usually he is very, very good about this.) Anyways, I just found out today, that I need to come up with almost $500 to pay for rent by tomorrow. And I need to pay off the tires we bought six months ago. All of this is within the next three days. And I'm going to be out of town tomorrow. And I'm sick and having chest pain. And I'm just dying... Or at least I feel like I am.

Fourth, I'm not sleeping well at night because I keep dreaming about a time in my life that I would rather forget. A VERY long story short: I dated a guy from 17-19. I was very depressed and suicidal. He raped me for the full two years we were together. There are many, many, many reasons why I didn't leave him. Eventually I did. Because it was such a traumatic period of my life, I blocked  a lot of specific incidents out of my mind. The last month or so, I have started remembering things in my dreams. It keeps me from sleeping well. It's hard because I don't really talk about anything specifically to anyone. My personality keeps me from confiding in people or talking to anyone about it. My good friends call me all the time because they need to talk about things going on in their lives. I love that they do this with me, but I've just realized that I've never done that. When I tell things that happen to me it's very non-specific and I drop it into conversations because I don't want it to be a "big" thing. Even though the things I need to talk about/should talk about are really big things. I know how to be a friend that is there, but I have a hard time letting my friends be there for me.

Fifth, I really hate my job. I cried all the way to work today. I'm angry that I have to be here. I'm angry that no one is here to pay me. I'm angry that I don't get to be a normal college student. My good friend Alexis, tells me that I need to go to work with the attitude of "this will make a great blog post." She tries to make it sound bearable, and she wants the best for me. And I love her for it, but it doesn't make it any easier to go to work. The blogging is cathartic, but quitting my job would be more so.

I was in tears walking on campus today talking to Jamie because of the stress from all the money I have to make. I don't know how or if I even can make enough. I'm not normally emotional and I seldom cry. But today I've been crying a lot. My heart condition is acting up and making it really hard for me to work. My life has been hard and difficult, and I just want it to be easy. I know my life is "better" than what it was, but it's not necessarily good. I have a wonderful boyfriend. I have super supportive friends. But I want to quit my job. I've been trying to have a social life at school. In order to have a social life I have to give up working, and I can't do that. I just want to be a normal college student. With normal problems. I want to be worried about finishing my paper. I don't want to have to worry about paying $2500 in bills every month. I want to go out and party (sans the drinking). I want life to get easier. I don't want it to be this hard. I just want my life to get easier.

Relationships

Because I strip and I have a curious mind, I have done a lot of research on stripping. I have read a lot of books and articles about stripping.

It's interesting how all the scholarly material is done about the client-stripper relationship, the stripper's relationship with herself, the stripper's personal history. If you think about each one of these things the research done isn't overly surprising. I'll sum it up for you.

The client-stripper relationship is interesting. There are two types of guys that go to the club. 1) The kind that go regularly. 2) The kind that go with a group for a social outing. The first kind is not what the public usually expects. These men are in a few different situations, but tied together by the bond of loneliness. They are usually single workaholics, men that travel and are away from their families or don't have families, or men that are older and don't like their wives anymore. These men want attention and don't have anyone else to get it from. These men develop a bond with a certain girl and only go into the club for that girl. The relationship is not based on anything sexual. It becomes a companionship. These men are so lonely they will pay to feel loved. (For the strippers this is how we make our big money. We develop regulars on certain days and we cultivate the bond they feel for us. We may or may not care for them, but they care for us. Because of that we are able to milk them for money. It's not nice, but it is the way it works.) The second kind are there because of their friends. They don't come that often and when they do the "group" mindset takes over and they aren't usually very kind. They are there to make women feel like sexual objects and use us. They may get a dance or two, but they tip well at the stage. They want the girls to flirt and flatter and lead them on. They usually expect us to go home with them because we're "easy."

The girl develops a relationship with herself throughout her carrier. She either becomes more sexual or less sexual depending on the girl. Though there is almost always some self loathing at one point, there is always a confidence boost because of the job. The girl become more empowered. Girls that do it to put themselves through college and keep their goals in order and stay grounded tend to be more successful than other women. This is because we know how to read a crowd, a group, and a person. We know how to make a sale to the crowd, group, and person. We know what works for us and what doesn't. We can handle rejection, and we don't take it personally. We are determined. There isn't a lot that can tear us down either.

The personal history of strippers tends to be fairly similar. Girls tend to have similar histories of little familial support. There is usually some form of abuse. Many girls have been sexually abused to some extent by someone. Usually the girls start with little to no self-confidence. A lot of girls have no sexual identity when they start. Other girls are forced into it by circumstance. No money, they have children as teenagers, they need money immediately. They have a drug addiction. And other reasons. There's usually some kind of troubled past.

I find it interesting being a part of this community because I can see the validity of all of these in one way or another. I can also explore the complexities and how all of these relationships intertwine to make a complicated situation, more so.

What I find even more puzzling is the lack of research done on the relationship between strippers. I find this to be one of the more complicated relationships. For me, I feel the other relationships are fairly common sense. While dancing I have encountered two ideologies when it comes to friends. First group, and also the more commonly thought ideology, don't make friends at work. Second group, friends help you make money. There is a lot of people and strippers that are loners at work. They have their "sort of friends," but no one they are close to . They do this because it can be hard to compete against your friends for money. These girls look at everyone else as their competition. Sometimes they do really well. Friends can be distracting at work. Like anything else, if they're having a bad day you want to be a good friend and help. This can mean losing out on dances which means losing out on money. Second, friends help you make money. Allies can point you in the direction of money.

I don't believe in the first ideology. In the beginning I was alone at the club because I was the new girl and going through my hazing. I did not make nearly as much money as I do now. Being completely alone at work can have an adverse affect. You don't have anyone to look out for you and make sure you're safe.

I am a sincere believer in the second ideology. Friends make work fun on slow days. Sometimes you can tag team and do one dance with two girls. More importantly, not every guy is going to like every girl. I have friends that are both similar and different from me at work. When I know a guy won't go for me, but I think he would like one of my friends. I point my friend in his direction. If I dance with a guy that isn't picky and has money I will send all my friends his way. If I can't make money off of a guy, I would rather have my friends make money off of him than a bitch I don't like. I also know that my friends will do the same thing for me. If they see someone that is looking for a girl like me they point me his way. I make more working in a team. I also feel safer knowing that there are a few girls that actually care about me as a person, and want to make sure that nothing bad happens.

The relationship is complicated between strippers. I could write a whole book on it. I'm really not joking about that. Strippers cause so much drama within the group. I will leave on this note. The bouncers stop more stripper fights than any others...

Judgie

Stripping I get used to being judged and feeling prejudices. It's pretty normal in my life. It's rare when I find people that are genuinely interested in what I do. And even more rare to find people that are a) proud of me b) think it's awesome.

I have always had the opinion that I won't hide my job. I know people that do hide it, and I see how badly it back-fires and ruins their life. From the very beginning I have been open and have told people what I do. All of my bosses at my other jobs know that I strip. They are very supportive and we talk openly about it. I don't like my job, but I am not ashamed of it and I will not hide it, come what may.  I have lost friend because of my job. And I have my struggles socially (post about that one fraternity). 

Today the world's view is starting to change. I can see that in my generation. Most people my age are pretty lassez-faire about the whole situation. There are some that are against it and think I'm "evil."  A lot of the older generations are still very against it and the taboo stripping represents. I've been lucky with my grandparents understanding and their only concern is my safety.

There is a harsh reality to my job. A lot of the time when people find out I strip, I can read every thought on their faces. "Oh, she's a prostitute." "She's dumb." "She has no morals." "She does drugs." "She's an alcoholic." "She loves sex." "She's a cheater." People judge without getting to know me. They don't want to know why, how, why. They write me off without any information. I would be lying if I said I don't judge because I do... A lot. I tend judge people all the time. It's funny though. When it comes to occupation and that kind of thing I don't judge very often. Because of my job I do know drug dealers and prostitutes. I don't judge them. I may not like them, but I don't judge because I don't know what happened or their background. I hate the way I feel when someone is judging me because of my job and that person's inability to empathize or understand difficult situations. So, I don't want to do that to someone else.

I am lucky enough to go to a very liberal, progressive college. I am lucky to have the boyfriend that I do, who stays with me through the truly terrible times. This year I met my roommate, Vera, who has become one of my closest friends. I told her what I do the very first day I met her, so that she was aware of the situation. I knew we would become very good friends because of her response "Oh, that's interesting. How does that work?" And it wasn't in the "Ohhhhh (judgment, judgment, judgement) that's hmmm... interesting (slut, slut, slut)." She didn't judge and has been totally accepting and supportive through everything.

Recently I have been growing close to several girls within a sorority that is known for being feminists and accepting. They all find it first, shocking because it's not a me kind of job and second, interesting. They keep telling me they're proud of me. I've never had anyone tell me that because of my job. Since becoming friends with them I've heard "It's amazing you can do that, I would never have the courage to do that." I never thought I would hear that from anyone. For them this is normal, this is how they feel. For me it is so unique and unusual. I have finally found a group of people that I can be me, and just me. I don't have to pretend to be something I'm not. I can be honest. I have a hard time fitting in with a group of people because my personality is so eclectic. These girls have showed me that it's okay to work the job I work. That even if my job sucks, it's still an accomplishment that I can do it. I am so grateful to have found friends that support, accept, and respect what I do. I don't know if they'll ever know to what extent all of this means to me. 

Mexicans!!!

I want to put a disclaimer on this. I am NOT racist. I know at the end of this I am going to seem like a huge hypocrite. Keep in mind that I do strip. Safety is a huge factor for me. At this point I don't care who I discriminate against as long as I stay safe. I have several Mexican friends, who I have told these stories to, and they agree with me. Anyways, here is my highly offensive post against Mexicans... Don't hate me.


I started stripping very idealistically. I'd heard stories about people being discriminatory against certain races. I said to myself "I won't do that. I'm accepting. I'm not racist." I've already told my story about the Mexican trying to force me to blow him on my third day. That should have been a clue to me, but it wasn't. There's also the memorable encounter of the three Mexicans trying to steal things off of my person... Shoe... Ring.


Other memorable moments:


There was a private dance with a guy who was very rough with me. I stopped the dance short because he would not ease up and I couldn't take it. And I'm a tough cookie. I can deal with a lot of pain. I went straight up to the dressing room after. I don't bruise easily, it takes a lot of force. I already had five distinctive bruises on each boob. Where each finger grabbed me, they left their mark. The physical symbol of how painful my job is. When I got home Jamie saw as I was in the shower. He cried for me. There's a point where there are no more tears to cry.


One guy kept trying to rip, I do mean rip, my underwear off.


One didn't understand that "DON'T touch my pussy." Means don't touch my pussy. I did learn how to say it in Spanish, the Mexican slang version though. 


I never thought I would say "No you may not smell my vagina." (This is not just particular to Mexicans, it's particular to most guys. I just have to say it more often to Mexicans.


One guy was not satisfied with me being in underwear for our private dance. He asked for a refund.


One guy refused to pay and the cops got called. I never did get that money.


There was one that scratched me so hard my back bled. I had to have my friend wash my back for me, it hurt so bad. He was smart enough to do it at the end, so he got his money's worth.


I was sitting with my back to someone in private dance. All of a sudden he bit me so hard on the neck I had a bruise and teeth marks for days. I'm still surprised he didn't take a chunk out of my neck.


One guy grabbed my nipples really hard and twisted them. I told him "Stop," so he did it again. And I did it to him. His response was "Why'd you do that." I told him because he did it to me. I made him tip me forty bucks because I'd had a bad night, and that was the last straw.


I do dance with some Mexicans. They're the ones that I know. They also know not to mess with me. There are some very respectful men. I hate to lump all Mexicans into one group. But I have found that at work it is safer for me to ignore them as a group completely than take a chance on the few good ones. I want to also say, that I'm not making the statement "Mexican" and meaning anyone from South America that speaks Spanish or men that were born in the US and whose parents/grandparents were from Mexico. I am talking about actual Mexicans. The ones who have only been here for a few years, and are planning on going back to Mexico. I do get to know them a little bit before going back to private dance. 


I'm not racist, outside of the club. When I'm in the real world race/color does not matter to me at all. But inside the club it does. I would rather offend someone than go home with a bruise because of someone else. It's not nice to me or my boyfriend. I don't want visible symbols of someone's brutality going home with me.