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How It All Started

June 5, 2013

How I became a stripper is relatively anticlimactic. At least to me it is.

I started dancing a bit less than one year ago. I didn’t have a traumatic childhood that plunged me into the dark underbelly of society to take off my cloths while men threw crumpled dollar bills at me. (I have been asked- by a customer no less, if this was the case- well perhaps not quite so elegantly. It is almost impossible to make slurred drunken words elegant.) Both of my parents were teachers- a respectable occupation. We were close to my extended family. I’ve never been sexually assaulted or abused. All in all I was much more likely to consider waitressing or office work before stripping.

Tiana-as-Waitress-Princess-and-the-Frog

this was almost me, minus the cartoon part

The thing is, I did consider those. When I first started working at the club I already had a full time day job. I worked in a store downtown in the city I live in. I plugged in my fortyish hours a week collected my paycheck and paid my rent. I was paid a shitty nine bucks an hour (no benefits) to work for a horrible man in a job that a trained monkey could do. I made barely enough to pay rent, buy groceries and have a bit of fun with friends. Now I don’t know if you’ve had to pay for college recently but a few days before I became a stripper I had to pay a college bill that cost me more than my rent. Ate up half a paycheck, the other half going to rent. I lived off of peanut butter and jelly and cheap bread for the next two weeks. My meager savings was crumbling into grocery money and general living expense, like heat and water. Prior to going to the club I’d spent multiple evenings walking up and down the city turning in applications in every single bar and restaurant and store front that was taking any. Problem was I had no experiences waiting tables and minimal in customer service. I’d gotten into the health care field as a PCA when I was 16 and made a hell of a lot more than I could of at any fast food joint or small town restaurant. I needed a second job and I needed one relatively quickly. I spent a day calling strip clubs. I figured I was attractive enough they might hire me as a server or bartender even though I had no experience. Obviously I was clutching at straws. Every place I called said that they were only hiring dancers. I’d never even been in a strip club much less ever gave serious thought to dancing in one.

Ok that’s a bit of a lie. As much as I love my mother she is a control freak and I said several times in high school that if it took stripping to pay my way through college with out having to take a penny from her damn it I’d do it than. I can be a bit melodramatic at times. Thing is I never thought I’d truly consider it.

I should give a bit more background here. I am an ROTC student for the Air Force. What that means is while I earn my degree I train to qualify to be an officer in the Air Force. Basically once I graduate I’ll not only have my degree but I’ll also be an officer. Somehow I think that if the military were to find out I spend a decent portion of my time taking off my cloths for strange men they’d be less than thrilled. Discretion was and still is a huge deal for me when it comes to ROTC members in general. Only two people know in the entire program. I called the club, which will be named BabyDolls for the purpose of this blog, on a Tuesday night. I asked if they were hiring servers, which they weren’t. They were, big surprise, always looking for dancers however. I stuttered/mumbled out a few awkward questions about discretion to the owner while I weighed my options. At this point I was getting depressingly desperate so I asked when I could come in to check it out. The owner told me to come on by that Saturday.

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Where I one day hope to have a job

After I hung up the phone I started making a mental pro/con list. One thing I will say about myself in absolute certainty is I am a logic-based person. I make pro con lists for everything; I find it a quiet way to rationalize my thoughts. The pro list went, make money, the club was a city and state (I live in MN the club was fifteen minutes away across the WI boarder) over so the chances of someone I know coming is low(er), I like to dance, I’m ok with my body and don’t mind showing it off, I liked to preform and I’m attractive enough I could do it comfortably. Cons; discretion, discretion, discretion, I have tiny tits, how was I going to get to and from the club at night- busses don’t run that late and I didn’t have a car, and the biggest con I didn’t know where my at the time girlfriend and I stood. It seemed less than plausible that a relationship on rocky territory could survive one of the participants entering work in the sex industry.

I decided to think on it for a few days. Haste makes waste and all (I assume the same thing happened with decisions as well as other things.) Well the week came and went and with it I got dumped. The rocky relationship was apparently much more rocky than I anticipated. Shortly after my boss decided to yell at me for forty minutes for something that happened before I was even hired and therefore had no control over on top of that all the other places I applied at- not hiring. By Saturday my choice was basically made. Maybe part of it was doing something crazy after getting dumped. Most women cut their hair after a break up- I became a stripper. A kind of twisted private form of break up revenge, minus the sleeping with her best friend part. Possibly it was because I was so pissed at my boss I wanted to do just about anything to have extra income. Just incase I finally lost it and decided to scream back one day and managed to get myself fired. It could have been I was just desperate. Either way I decided I’d go to the club, check it out and see if it was something I could do.

Saturday came and I realized I had no clue as to what I was doing. I didn’t know what to wear, how to do my hair/makeup. I think I had a five minute panic attack staring at my closet with a one towel in my hair and a second around my body.

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Not mine… I own about a fourth of this now and had half of that when I started out

When I got to the club I asked to speak to the owner. He unfortunately remembered me from my incredibly awkward and embarrassing call. In his office we sat down and talked. If I started dancing I would be considered an independent contractor. The only thing the bar has with my real name on it is a copy of my I.D. on the back of a no harm agreement. The no harm agreement says I won’t sue the bar for anything and the bar won’t be held responsible if I g bat shit crazy and attack a customer. The club can’t give out my real name with out a court order and I’m fairly positive Barry plus maybe three others are the only ones who know it anyway. I choose what nights I work as long as I could be there by six and stay until midnight at the earliest At the end of the night I would tip out the bar 15 bucks, this went to the bouncer and bar tenders, I’d tip 30 if I was late. I’ll discuss more about how clubs work in a different post.

After getting the low down I’d pretty much made up my mind that I could do this. I asked about hanging around for a while to check the place out. Barry told me several of the girls had been no shows and if I wanted he’d have one of the mellower girls borrow me something to wear and I could start that night. I made a snap decision and thirty minutes later I was climbing on stage for my first stage set.

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From → How it started

2 Comments
  1. Aphrodite permalink

    Shitty jobs, yelling bosses…don’t let me start about that.
    And my insecurity made it worse, and I was an easy target to pick on.

    • I just go fed up and did something. It really helped me find my voice and stand up for myself better. No matter where you go you get shitty bosses at least in this industry we can easily walk away.

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