“Those who mind don’t matter, and those who matter don’t mind”

I’ve changed a lot over the last year.  I’ve got braver and more daring, pushing myself in ways I had always hoped I could but never thought I actually would.  Of course becoming a stripper has been part of that.  Although I’ve always been naturally attracted to the unusual and the controversial I’ve equally always been wary not to rock the boat.  It’s that age old internal battle between wanting to be yourself versus wanting to fit in.

In the last year I’ve broken away in many ways from the mundane existence that is expected from any ‘respectable’ person from my home town, the place where I’m meant to fit in to.  Living away in a much more diverse city has done me the world of good.  Or so I believe.  A ‘friend’ from home seems to think the exact opposite.

Ironically this friend also lived in this city for a time but continued to exist in her comfortable middle class circles with her eyes firmly shut.  A lot of my friends from home are like this.  They’re all well-educated with good degrees from reputable universities but at the same time are, in many ways, still completely ignorant.  And worse still is that they are ignorant to their ignorance.

Anyway this friend of mine, she doesn’t even know about the stripping, and I wouldn’t dare tell her either.  No it’s something else that bothers her about me, an unorthodox relationship I’m having if you like.

You see she comes back to this city every few weeks to see her (completely acceptable) boyfriend who still lives here, and when she does she also meets me.  And every time she insists on having the same argument with me over and over again: “What are you doing with this person? It’s so weird!  What’s wrong with you?  Why don’t you get a nice normal boyfriend?”

“Because normal boys are boring” I say.

“What about my boyfriend do you think he’s boring?”

Yes. “No.”  He’s perfectly nice but he’s not my type.

To be honest, she’s boring.  She’s so convinced that she’s right about everything and that anything anyone else does that’s different is just wrong and they need rounding up and putting in their place.  I need putting in my place.

Sadly, when you’re told there’s something wrong with you by a ‘close friend’ you’ve known and trusted for many years, you tend to believe them.  Every time she’s come up I’ve been left completely unbalanced.  Who the hell am I meant to be? I ask.  I end up feeling like I have some grotesque split personality disorder, that I can’t be sure about anything.

There’s no worse feeling; not knowing who you are, not being allowed to love what and who you want for fear of rejection.  It tears you up.

This is why you need people around you who understand you when you do a job like mine.  Or at the very least, they don’t agree with you but they accept you and will support you regardless.  I am lucky to say I have some people like this who do understand and accept me.

“You know what you’re doing” one said.  “Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

“You’ve come such a long way.  You’ve done what ninety-five per cent of the population wouldn’t dare.  You are brave and I’m proud of you so stop beating yourself up!”

I know they’re right.

So please, surround yourself with good people who will accept and support you.  Don’t listen to those who are trying to stamp on you, no matter who they are or how long you’ve known them for, because you’ve simply outgrown them.  Tell the important things only to the people you trust.

“Those who mind don’t matter, and those who matter don’t mind”

x

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How Mainstream is the Twerk?

Genius burlesque performance!

☺same great taste☺

Michelle L’amour performs “BUTTHOVEN’S 5TH SYMPHONY” and further complicates the viability of the white woman twerking. But unlike Miley at the VMAs, something makes L’amour’s performance easy to consume without icky feelings of race-appropriation or irreverence. Arguably this is an effect of spoofing the twerk and undermining the Western canon. L’amour’s use of Beethoven’s 5th Symphony makes fun of elitist music taste while her butt moves without missing a note. And unlike Ms. Cyrus, the only prop is a bejewelled tie that sits on the lower back in the spirit of tongue in cheek. The appeal of this video is the result of mainstream music appropriating sub-cultural twerking and neatly channeling it towards the former-Hannah Montana to bring big gasps and shares online. And just when we thought it was finally over, a Burlesque dancer enmeshed in alternative representations re-appropriates the twerk.

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Foot Fetish

On Saturday night a drunk man came up to me and asked for a dance.  “I don’t like those” he said gesturing to another stripper’s thigh high stockings.  “I like feet. Will you dance with your feet for me?”  Clearly my new peep toe boots had attracted this man and I thanked the Lord that I had painted all of my toenails and not just the front ones the boots displayed (as I had been tempted to do out of laziness).

“Of course” I said.  This would be fun.

I led him to a booth and started to dance.  I brought one leg up and pressed my heeled boots into his thigh which he liked.  I then rolled back on to the floor in front of him and slowly unzipped one boot at a time, slipping them off and flexing my toes before him.  I then climbed up on to the sofa and improvised, stretching down to stroke my feet down his legs.  He grinned.

Time was up quickly as he had only paid for three minutes.

“Would you like to continue?”

“Can I touch your feet?” he slurred.

I thought a moment.  No harm in that.  “Sure.”

“Can I touch the rest of you?”

Ha! “Afraid not.”

“Then no” and he stumbled out.

Silly man.  Foot fetish or not, no special extras for you!

 

P.S.  By the way, for any of you ladies or gentlemen who are partial to feet and/or nylon or simply find the idea amusing, I came across this video the other day when searching youtube for videos on how to seductively remove stockings (yes youtube can even be educational to strippers!)  I get that some people would find it most arousing but I just find it god damn funny.  Either way I hope you enjoy it!

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The art of selling the strip tease

Finally I seem to be cracking this thing!

Despite a few complaints from the girls who have worked at my club a while, saying it’s going down hill, I’ve decided to ignore them.  One girl told me she usually makes about £300 a night.  I thought if she can do it so can I.

At the start I was doing quite well but I still think that was beginner’s luck to an extent.  I know the job better now so it’s lost its novelty.  I think it was the excitement that was making me money at the start.  Now it’s time to get serious.  I didn’t do so well the last 3 nights I worked before Saturday.  I realised I had to pull it together so I set myself a £200 target.  I worked out that to achieve this I’d have to do about three to four £20 dances per hour (I get £14 of the £20).  Totally doable!

I ended up smashing my goal and did £253 (39 £10 dances).  I learnt a few more useful things.

It’s better to dress more slutty/stripperish (but in things that suit you) and then taylor you stripper character to who you’re talking to.  Some guys just want a stripper, some want an intellectual conversation and a bit of company.  Some want a slut, some want a romantic.  The fantastic thing about being the sensitive (or perhaps intuitive is a better word) person I am means that I can very quickly work out what the guy wants out of his encounter with me and act accordingly.  It’s also worth going back to people you chatted to earlier.

So yeah it’s going really well now  🙂

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Fake Bake

fakebake

One of the other girls said to me the other night she wondered what I’d look like with fake tan.

Erm.. Orange?

The only time I ever wore fake tan was to paint in the tan lines on my shoulders left from my swimming costume.  Other than that I wouldn’t bother with it.  I’m quite happy to be pale.  Partly because I’m just too lazy.  It looks like such an effort.  Seriously, some girls slather it on in the dressing room every single night, and then complain they have to be careful not to rub it off on the customers!

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