Hmmm. This is silly, but I’m not sure what you mean by lateral hip flexibility.
If you mean for side-splits, I don’t, other than lying on my back and snapping my legs out to either side while flashing people (probably not so good for the muscles and tendons, to be honest, and I’d say stay away from doing it…it does occasionally cause me problems).
And if you mean for a front split, those are the only exercises I do. I have been given advice by other dancers (who were gymnasts or ballerinas in a previous life) to lie on my back, one leg flat on the floor, and work on pulling the other leg slightly to the side but mostly back, towards your face. I am terrible at it. But it seems like a legit exercise.
I’m really happy those worked for you! And, I’m happy they felt good…they feel pretty good to me, too.
Flexibility buddies. I like it.
Hi! It’s nice to meet you. Thanks for your compliments…sometimes I wonder whether I really speak clearly enough to make sense, or whether it’s like the garbage disposal threw up. :)
I have an XPole XPert 45mm (chrome finish). I highly, highly recommend it! I have danced on many poles, and I hate most of them. In fact, I ditched the Lil Mynx pole I had, in perfectly acceptable condition, because I didn’t like the mount. The Lil Mynx pole didn’t feel safe to me (the mount was pretty flimsy and I’d gotten pinched by the top inch more than once because of the adjustment mechanism).
The XPert I have is a damn good pole. The money is absolutely, completely, totally, utterly (any more words I have?) worth it. The only thing I would personally change is the finish I chose…I wish I’d gotten the titanium gold, but I am still very satisfied with the chrome.
Any more pole-buying questions, feel free to ask. I’m no expert, but I sure have been through the wringer on trying to find a good one for myself.
Sometimes I just have one of those nights when I really want to just quit stripping. When it doesn’t feel worth it. When I’d rather let my financial life go to hell, end all comforts, and just go back to making shitty wages like every other early-twenty-something I know.
I don’t feel like this very often. But it sorta hit me halfway through the night: this is painful sometimes.
My body hurts. I’m bruised in fifty places on my legs, my hip is swollen again, my spine is bruised, my knees and ankles and hips and lower back hurt and everything feels OLD. I am not old. I feel physically beat the fuck up after dancing Wednesday and today (Friday). Dancing has never put me in this bad of shape so regularly for such little work…I was pretty good at working several shifts in a row without hurting last year. In fact, I’m not sure anything has ever put me in pain this regularly, even working at the stables or being in multiple sports as a kid.
I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with me lately, because my body’s always been able to handle physical jobs, physical leisure activities, long workouts, etc. I’m in great shape, at least as far as the eye is concerned and as far as I feel strong/able. I just feel pain more frequently than before. It’s odd.
And I’ve been writing it off as being a pussy and being lazy for awhile now, but I started taking more vitamins and stuffing myself full of protein recently (I’m a carbs-veggies-dairy kind of girl)…to no help. Laying off pole workouts doesn’t help, working out more doesn’t help. I sleep plenty, I drink plenty of fluids at/away from work, I barely drink alcohol anymore, and I don’t use drugs often enough to count. I’m not over- or underweight.
Whatever. Anyway, work sucked. It was painful.
Mentally, I wanted to be anywhere else. I didn’t want to dance for most of those fucks. I didn’t actually want to dance at all. It sounded like a lot of work for not a lot of cash and enough headache that I’d have rather gone home.
Customers sucked—minus The Mayor, who is always good to talk to, but semi-exhausting from enjoying the conversation—because most of them were being cheap with me.
I made around $500 less than the top half of girls…and I usually am one of the top few girls. I hatehatehate knowing I was one of The Worst Picks of The Night. Seriously? Did I look that shitty? Am I actually just starting to look gross enough to be one of those Worst Picks?
But of course, Piper has to be a fucking good, sweet girl and stay at work and be nice to people she’d rather not be nice to and not yell at people and not bitchslap her coworkers for getting into her shit and not drink and not do a bunch of blow and not sit at the top of the pole tapping her fingers when no one’s tipping.
If Piper was her actual self, was allowed to actually BE herself once in awhile, all hell might break loose, though, and she’d make significantly less money than she does anyway…
Argh. Essentially, I’m pissed. I’m ranting. I’m ending it. I’m going to bed, grouchy as fuck, knowing my broke-ass has to do it again tomorrow, pain or no pain, pissed off or not.
Thanks for your compliments. And you’re not bothering me! I am usually pretty bored sitting on this side of the screen. I don’t spend much time out of the house with more than one or two people around anymore.
I look pretty young. Maybe 18-year-old-ish. Somedays I look less legal than others (whoa there, pervs reading—I am old enough to be doing this—I’m 23). Other days, I do look my age (and I’m thankful for those). Looking youthful isn’t something I’ve seen clubs I’ve worked for have a problem with—based on many other dancers who look very, very young. But it varies from club to club and city to city what they consider an ‘acceptable’ look.
I know flat-chested girls who do make hoardes of money. They are fantastic to talk to, dance well, and work hard…like any other girl who makes money. But, again, this might vary in other clubs/cities…I haven’t worked all over the place, after all.
Height doesn’t seem to be an issue. 5-8” stilettos take care of shortness, anyway. Many of the girls I work with are quite little. I’m pretty average in height (5’6”) and I feel a little tall compared to some of my coworkers!
There’s kind of a saying in my club’s dressing room that says something about how every guy likes something different, and how every girl is some guy’s “type”. It holds true.
What’s more important is how you FEEL about stripping. If YOU don’t think you’re willing to do it, or if you don’t want to, or if your intimate partner would have a major problem with it, or if your boundaries are a little more strict than those at clubs in your area…you should reconsider and look harder for other jobs that are more suitable for you. Stripping isn’t for everyone.
If YOU want to do it, and YOU think you can handle it (and it’s potential consequences, up to and including the possibility of not being able to use that degree you obtained because of lack of work history or because you tell the truth about your work history)—and you should read everything you can about stripping prior to diving in headfirst with no other means of finding out—then try it. Why not? You’re only young once.
If you find out, please let me know! I get it frequently, and after two years and asking every woman I know, nothing has yet worked for me in the prevention department.
In treating razor burn, I usually use diaper rash cream (I also use it for ass acne!), and it works like a charm…but takes around 8 hours. I leave it on while I sleep.
I also don’t shave every day. I wait 1-2 days after shaving, and that seems to prevent it a little. On my days off, I absolutely don’t shave.
Tips I’ve been given:
- Shave with men’s razors, and only use sharp/new razors with 4+ blades. This does seem to help slightly.
- Post-shaving, use roll-on deodorant on the area. Apply generously. (Theory goes: Ever seen razor burn in your armpits?) This doesn’t work for me.
- Use razor-bump treatment stuff before and after shaving. This just makes my shit turn red and look worse, but it does seem to help, say, 6 hours later.
- Use a shaving cream like Aveeno, which they market to prevent razor burn. (But we all know how effective marketing claims and how accurate advertising are, ey?) This doesn’t work any better than plain ol’ soap for me.
If you are a stripper, or just thinking about getting laid and don’t want your partner to see it, apply concealer and then a foundation to match your skin tone. It won’t block out all of the red, and it WILL make the razor burn worse (clogging your pores), but for appearances’ sakes, it helps.
That’s the best I can do for advice. Hope it helps! (And please, if you hear of something else, let me know!)
I hadn’t seen that video…but I LOVE it! Oona Kivela is one of my favorites, and especially so because she strikes me as quite gymnastic. She looks like she’s having a blast when she’s dancing. She exudes sensualness without striking me as being over-dramatically goddess-like. I guess she strikes me as “real”, and really fucking talented. Definitely in love with watching videos of Oona’s performances.
I do, you’re right, want to immediate jump on my pole. I also wish that I could…I got a handful of nasty bruises and some soreness after working my ass off on Friday and attempting to work again on Saturday (I made it 2.5 hours through a 9-hour shift). If there’s any hope of these bruises healing, I should really stay off of the pole for a few more days. But…but…who knows. Maybe I won’t. ;x I could use all of the practice I can get before Stripperfest.
On trusting your knee…as friendly advice, maybe ask a doctor—particularly a specialist if you’re able to see one—when you’re able to start doing pole again? If they don’t understand the impact that pole has on your knee…tote a laptop or phone in with a video.
I sure hope you can do pole again soon. I love having pole buddies to exchange photos and videos with!
I think I’m going. In short, it’s a competition for Midwest strippers to strut their stuff. Titles include Queen of the Pole, Queen of the Stage, and Hottest Stripper. I’ve never been, and I’ve been talking about going since I was a wee baby dancer. Franklin isn’t actually that far away.
I’m considering competing for Queen of the Pole. It’s all sorts of political and biased as to who wins, and some of the girls are considerably out of my league on the pole (I’m not actually “that” good in the pole dancing/pole fitness world; but in the stripping world, I’m much better than average). First prize takes $1500 and second takes $750…if, by some bizarre fate, I would do well, it’d be worth going.
And if not…well, what? I make a fool of myself hundreds of miles from home and get a vacation anyway? I could definitely live with that. I’m just amused at the prospect of competing in something. There’s an actual plaque involved. I find it funny enough to try it, I think.
The photographer from the magazine said I’d have a damn good shot, if I actually pulled out what I know. He said I would have beat the past two winners. He probably says that to all of the girls…but hey, I’m going to let it be a nice compliment.
Bonus, he said last time only six girls competed. I’d be willing to take those odds…but I’m not willing to take, say, a 30:1 shot. And I will only consider competing if I can do it barefoot. No way in fucking hell you’re going to get me to try an extended butterfly in stilettos…and certainly not on a 15ft-20ft pole.
Sounds like mastering fear of heights, getting some new combos down, shopping (ick), and working with, uh, body paint are in my future for the week. All with sore asscheeks and black-and-blue from the waist down…
Tonight turned out to be extremely painful. I feel like I did when I’d been dancing for eight to ten weeks and was still getting used to pole burns, knees on a wood floor, and shaking my ass at or on people. I feel like a wimp.
I went to work on what I consider sleep-deprivation levels of sleep, with one sore asscheek, a UTI, and having not taken a shit for a couple of days (despite efforts to remedy the situation). That stuff I can whine a little about and get some sleep and feel all better about, for the most part.
But now both knees are bruised, the right shin is bruised, the muscle behind my left knee is bruised, both asscheeks are sore, one bruise on the side of my hip, one VERY sore/probably very bruised knot over the back of my right hip, and I conveniently received a spine-bruise from having to dance on stage so much tonight.
We only had eleven girls in rotation tonight, with some dipping out to do VIPs every now and again. Which meant I pretty much wound up dancing 10 sets tonight: 120 to 180 minutes of dancing, depending on how long each song was, just on stage. Plus, I did private dances and listened to a bunch of mindless drivel from miscellaneous people in between.
The only good part of tonight was that my Lucky Charm stopped in, and so did The Mayor, as promised.
I’m just happy to be home, making vegetarian taco pizza, having already eaten a sandwich. SLEEP. For the next twelve hours.
Hmm…you know why it took me so long to reply to this question? Because I didn’t know how to interpret it.
If you mean, am I relatively adventurous and a metaphorical sailor? Sure, I’m adventurous.
If you mean, “Do you like boats?” then, yes. I like boats. Even other people’s boats. Especially kayaks.
If you’re asking whether I have a tendency to loot and pillage and hold hostage foreigners…the answer, my friend, is no. I do not. The last time I stole something I was eight and I felt so guilty I snuck it back into the (Christian paraphernalia) store and secretly put it back in it’s spot. It was an eighty-cent rainbow bracelet.
If you mean do I frequently, stereotypically use the word “ARR”, then you are also SOL.
Also, I am not Somalian…and although I don’t know much about pirate culture, I think this might also be a stereotype…
In short, I’m not entirely sure what you mean. If this didn’t answer it, feel free to clarify.
Now that I generally get enough sleep regularly (in the dayworld I was just perpetually sleep deprived), I need it. I feel like I don’t function well without a good long sleep.
Today I have to work. Two regulars that I don’t want to miss, and I haven’t worked since Sunday…my lazy ass needs to get to work, anyway.
And today I’m running on very little sleep.
I’m tiiiiiired. And I don’t waaaaannna go to work. I want to sleep more.
I’m throwing a miniature personal tantrum in my head about it.
And I feel like a brat: most people I know drag their asses to work five (or more) days a week, for at least forty hours, to make never-enough, sometimes after caring for a sick child all night. I’m being bratty about going to work on six hours of sleep, I’ve worked nine hours this week so far, and I know I’m going to make a week or two’s worth of most people’s wages or more.
I think I’ve effectively guilt-tripped myself into the bathtub. See ya after work, Tumblr.
Oh wow. Yes, I would love to help you with your article. And I’m really glad you’ve asked for input! Thanks for asking me. :)
Oh god, I have a ton of advice for you. When I started writing, I couldn’t stop. Feel free to ask any other questions, though. And, I’d love to see your paper!
I would avoid, of course, words related to “slut”, “whore”, “ho”, “hooker”, etc. But you knew that, if you’re aware of slut-shaming.
Prostitution is something that some girls who are also strippers choose to do, but it does offend me personally to have someone assume that, because I dance, I must also be a prostitute. Personally, I don’t perform sexual acts for money. I don’t have a problem with it as long as it stays out of my club. I just don’t want to be referred to as a prostitute, which is a common public misconception (as seen in the asinine song, “Porn Star Dancing”). Many, many, many strippers have a problem with being lumped into the prostitution category—it doesn’t help us, and it doesn’t help the women and men who do prostitute.
It is something to be aware of in the stripper community for women to be slightly (or more so) offended with the use of the word “stripper”. Some prefer “entertainer”, ”exotic dancer”, or simply “dancer”—those are generally “safer” words to use. I don’t mind the use of the word “stripper”; I feel like that’s precisely what I do, so that’s what I call myself.
Probably the single most offensive thing, to me, is implying (sometimes accidentally, sometimes not) that I’m not capable enough, smart enough, educated enough, or otherwise good enough to find a “real” job. Some people don’t realize they’re doing this, so it’s something to consider with statements about girls’ backgrounds and reasons for doing the job. It’s probably the #1 thing that will make me irate with someone.
…And #2 is “rescue” operations/efforts/statements. When well-intentioned feminists or other groups talk about how they’d like to see my job end because of the perception that I am being constantly exploited, it does make me fairly angry. There are many, many, many people and groups who ARE being exploited in the sex industry (those that are trafficked or pimped, for example), and their burden is heavy. I feel like it takes away from helping those who may actually want and need help to suggest that I need it. I actually very much like my job, am paid very well for it, and don’t feel at all forced to do my job.
I can’t really think of too many terms or definitions that you wouldn’t know just by doing some general snooping on blogs, forums, and websites. But if there’s something that you don’t understand, please ask. I’d be happy to answer it if I can.
As far as sources of information to check out, I can point you towards blogs I love, but I can’t offer too many sources. My ability to talk about my job is more or less experiential.
Blogs I love (some are Tumblr, some are not). These sites may or may not be safe for work/school—so click cautiously.
Diary of an Angry Stripper < Make sure you check out her right-side sidebar with other blogs listed.
Ava Adore’s List of Strippers (as well as her own blog, which is listed; she has a left sidebar with other stripping, sex industry, and feminist links listed, too)
…And really, I mean it when I say to throw questions at me. I am absolutely bored beyond belief tonight; I stayed home with sore asscheeks.
I’m sure that most of the other dancers would answer questions for you, too. Consider asking them as well.
Sometimes when I watch videos of myself dancing, it’s like: Man, and to think I wasn’t actually able to get out of bed five years ago.