AnonymousClap that Ass, Make that Cash.
Well, actually I can’t really clap my ass. (I’m learning though!) I’ve been dancing for about a month, and it would have been more interesting if I had started my blog the same time I started dancing. But I had not come to the realization that this IS actually a story to tell, until about last night.
I was a bit of a mess when I first started. See, it’s not hard to figure out. To be a stripper, you’ve gotta be a little bit slutty. It comes down to, Sex Sells. So if a guy thinks your into suckin’ and fuckin’ after your shift of bumpin’ and grindin’ then he’s more likely to spend more money on you. Logistics. But here’s the thing. I’m not slutty. Not by a long shot. Here is some incredibly true personal information. I am 21 years old, and I have only had sex with 4 people (sex-intercourse, oral, seeing me naked). Of these four people, 1 was a two week fling, the three others. I dated them each for a year and a half, and currently have a boyfriend. Yes, he does support me, and even encourages my current work. That fact is probably what makes me most secure about this whole career.
Keeping how conservative I am with my goods in mind. You should also know, I didn’t have to buy one thing to start dancing. I had all the outfits. And yes, I even had a pair of clear 6” stripper heels sitting in my closet. Just waiting for me to twirl up on stage. I’ve told my mom since high school that I wanted to be a stripper when I grow up. (At the time it was a joke, and she still doesn’t know.) I’ve always worn obscene amounts of glitter. I’ve always had a thing for high heels. I was already prepared with a drawer full of thigh highs, fish nets, and other scandalous lingerie. I even have fake boobs. Little boobies + car accident settlement = beautiful breasts that shouldn’t be hidden from the world. I never realized that this could quite possibly and I’m almost afraid to admit. My Destiny.
