yo, how's it going Piper? I'm back with more flexibility questions....what do you do to increase your lateral hip flexibility? Mine is shit. Also, I finally got around to trying your rocking back and forth on the hips method for splits and it was great! It really helped to make my hips feel looser in the front/rear direction.
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.
Hi!! First of all, I just wanted to say that you have a lovely blog here. And I mean that sincerely- you give a clear insight into what you do and you write with wit.
And secondly, I was wondering what brand/make of pole you have and would you recommend 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.
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.
i have an awkward question, which i am sorry to bother you with but you are kind of the best. i'm starting college soon and surprise! no one wants to hire an unexperienced, currently unskilled 18 year old during a recession. i considered stripping, BUT: i am barely five feet tall, mostly flat chested, and appear very… young. basically i look like a 13 year old. so i figured stripping was probably not for me. but then i realized, dude, I LOOK LIKE A 13 YEAR OLD.
is there really a market for this? it seems like there would be. but idk. are people seriously into that? i mean, really?
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.
what do i do about/to avoid razor burn on my cooter? :[
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 love this!! Have you seen it?
Totally inspires me to jump on my pole; sadly I took it down from my living room for the time since I haven't been using it much after knee surgery. I don't know when I can trust my knee again.
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!
Sex work in itself is not inherently anti-feminist. What is sexist about strip clubs, pornography and other commercial avenues of sex is the fact that our society has normalized the open expression of men’s sexual desire and not that of women.
Women’s equality goes beyond legal rights and equality in employment; it extends into healthy expressions of sexuality that are not mediated by gender-specific societal values. Many ideas in our culture continue to be dominated by a Victorian-era obsession with giving women — and not men — a sexual value system that they “should” adhere to.
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…
You Want to Know What a Shitty Day at the Office is Like for a Stripper?
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.
Hello, so I am writing in the Perspectives section for my college paper and I wanted to write a piece on Strip Clubs. I have no issue with stripping, just with (as I'm sure you've experienced) the degrading of women (and the men, all genders really) who strip as something less than human and how they are, in our social context, treated like trash. I was hoping you could lend me some perspectives on any language I should avoid, (I'm aware of slut shaming, and I don't practice it), or even some terms/definitions or sources that would be useful to look at before I go and write this?
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.
I get really proud of myself when I make something, sort of like a little kid with a misshapen clay statue. The link is my metaphorical misshapen clay statue, which hasn’t yet dried and could still be reworked. Feel free to ask questions that could be answered here, because I wasn’t really sure what to write.
I would have talked to you! I was always a loner, too. I would have been the one in the other corner with the gameboy, grumbling over my game rage and reading comic books.
No thanks necessary! You seem like such a neat lady, I wish I could meet you.
I used to dance for a while, ballet and contemporary. I think I could get the hang of working a pole quickly enough. For all of my clumsiness, I’m at least flexible, so with some practice I bet I could do it. :3 And you could just teach me all the awesome ways to stick boobies in peoples’ faces. I don’t have exceptionally big ones, but I could work with what I have. And I would LOVE to learn pole tricks.
And anyway, just lap dances and banter would do me fine. ^_^ I’d be a regular for sure. ;D
Sweet! I had a gameboy, too. I didn’t particularly like books with pictures in my years when I sat in corners, though.
You seem like a fun guy. Ditto on the wishing to meet you. I hope you stumble into the club I work at one night and say something to the effect of, “Are you that blogger, uh, Strippr? Like, without the ‘e’ in ‘Strippr’?”
Oh gosh...I'm all blushing and things. u_u You're all sexy and smart and I'm all nerdy and awkward. After you give me a lapdance and drop knowledge on me, could you teach me how to dance? I think if I tried to even approach a pole, I would just fall on my face
I’m actually all super nerdy and awkward. I was always the nerd in the corner with her book; everyone cheated off of my math tests and I capitalized on this by making them do the redundant homework I didn’t want to do. ;x
Thanks for your compliments. Nerds especially need self-esteem +1’s.
I don’t know if I could teach you to dance. I don’t actually do much dancing. After two years of being a professional dancer, I am only now getting the hang of having legs and arms and hips that can all move as one piece (this “body” thing everyone pays for). I mostly spend my time putting boobies in faces, flashing men, and doing the occasional pole trick. I learned pole tricks to cover up my awkward and clumsy dancing.
I can’t teach you to dance. But I could probably teach you a couple of pole tricks.
:) I’m smiling like a nerdy third-grader who got a dandelion gift at the moment.
[*Queued on Mar 14 to prevent newsfeed clogs. Apologies if newsfeed needed plunger anyway.]
And I thought it was one of the most awesome compliments I’ve gotten. And I also very much hoped he was serious.
Because I would totally. fucking. love. to spew knowledge on someone while giving a private dance. I would also love if that person threw knowledge back at me. I also like knowledge before and after dances.
In fact, I just like learning stuff.
Please, for the love of all things good, why can’t there be more customers like this? Ones who have friendly banter and stuff for me to learn?
[*Queued on Mar 14 to prevent newsfeed clogs. Apologies if newsfeed needed plunger anyway.]
*This is relative to my club, of course, not all strip clubs. I was surprised enough to blog about it as soon as I got home, to say the least.
Marijuana use is considered acceptable in any conversation between dancers and staff, for the most part. It would be very weird if someone were to be surprised about pot. Girls often go a bit down the driveway on their breaks and smoke pot.
Of course, past drug use or addiction is considered acceptable conversation. I’d go so far as to say that talking about what one did on her day off, for fun, is acceptable.
We’re not allowed to have liquor on the main floor (public part) of the club or in the dressing room. So girls keep it in their cars and go to the “car bar” on break. Some even just hide it in the dressing room bathroom, against the rules. It’s overlooked by other girls, who don’t snitch to anyone who would actually care.
But lately, cocaine is getting sort of rampant in our small little club. Not that drugs didn’t exist in the club before, but it was limited to a handful of addicts and the occasional pair of friends who decided to secretly have some fun for a night.
But actually doing drugs at work is something extremely private, and for those that aren’t addicted, rare. Drink like fish, smoke pot in the driveway, okay. Doing lines in the customer bathroom (a one-holer that locks and is private) is completely taboo…even to talk about between girls who aren’t close friends.
And now? Girls are doing lines in the dressing room bathroom. Our dressing rooms have cameras and we aren’t allowed to have a door on the bathroom so that we don’t do drugs (or steal, but since no one steals, it’s so that we don’t do drugs). We get a curtain on the bathroom for limited privacy. And no one knocks…of course girls just come and go. There’s no actual boundary, and girls usually don’t care if someone is there when they pee.
So as girls are coming and going from the bathroom, there are hurried lines being done. And some are still sneaking over to the customer bathroom. And it’s obvious that more and more girls are doing coke just in the past week. One week, and now it feels like half the dancers are doing it instead of a consistent 5 or 6 that used to when they worked (and were sneaky about it, too).
And it’s not like it’s one dealer. There’s a couple of girls who do bring it in, but now other girls are, too. It’s not a matter of just getting one person to stop dealing it. And now girls are talking about it. In pairs, and quietly, and not around those they don’t trust, but if L* and I have both caught on, so has everyone else.
No one’s been caught yet, to my knowledge. But it’s only a matter of time.
This could get really interesting. And really stereotypical.
While I was at work, I got 22 new followers. 22. That’s a lot of new followers for a ten-hour span of time. I still get really excited when ONE new person follows me. And I still check out the new blog(s) that follow me, and occasionally read a few posts here and there of those that do. Sorry, guys, but it is going to take me a couple of days to read new followers’ blogs.
And current followers? Thanks. I totally appreciate it. I notice it. I read every. single. comment with glee that someone responded to my little blog in the great big blogosphere of the internetz.
It still has me in complete shock that 176 people (currently) think that my writing is interesting enough to at least hit the “follow” button after reading something, and sometimes, even read often!
I feel like the dorky kid just got popular for a second…and there’s a big, crooked, toothy grin to match my mood.
Gotta make it snappy; I’m on my way into the bathtub before work, and then to fly out the door in an attempt to be at work in an hour.
I’m nervous about working tonight.
I have to deal with the mess I may have gotten myself into on Friday, and I have to do it relatively sober. I’d really just like to be fucked up in some way.
I’d forgotten that dealing with while-I-was-high messes is hard to do while sober. I guess it’s been awhile since I’ve abused any sort of drug. And it’s been even longer since I’d been completely reckless and messy with anything. Like, six years.
And dancing was easier and stripping was easier and douchebags were easier to deal with while not exactly having an idea of what was going on entirely.
Here goes nothing. Wish me luck in cleaning up my messes.
So, can I be sorta stereotypical for a minute without getting all sorts of flaming comments?
I bought some coke tonight at work. (Yeah, the story starts like that and goes wayyy downhill from there.) I’ve done plenty of coke, but I’ve never done meth, and absolutely refuse to touch the shit. Figured it must’ve been good coke, because I was fucking out of my gourd all night. Fortunately for my face, my body remembers how to catch itself on the pole while falling out of a pole trick. I only did maybe a half gram. And in nine hours, I could have done the whole gram…but was so fucking high I couldn’t do anymore than the half gram and probably should’ve stopped at a quarter gram. And about halfway through the night, I figured it out: it must’ve been cut with meth. A lot of meth. There’s no fucking way in hell coke would make me feel that way.
Not that I’ve done meth, but I lived with a meth addict for six months, and I dated one for an additional six months. I’m familiar with it. I live in a major meth-saturated city.
I was partying like all hell, realized something was wrong and I didn’t feel good, I didn’t feel like it was coke, had maybe half a clue what was going on, felt miserable.
Then I get called out by L, the best friend, with disappointment. And anger. And I realize I am acting like “that” girl. The fucking fool. The one that customers and other girls pity because she can’t stand up in her goddamn shoes or stand still or make anything come out of her mouth other than nonsense.
And I’m pretty sure my boss knew. And I’m pretty sure I was acting enough of a fool that most of my fucking coworkers knew. Screw the customers knowing; there will be another fresh set tomorrow. I’m kind of horrified at myself for that. I’m more horrified that my friend saw that trainwreck.
And now I’m in some bad ass indescribable pain and have been for hours. And I’m signed up to work again tonight (Saturday). And I haven’t slept/can’t sleep. Miserableness.
I hear Sweden is a beautiful land of unicorns and rainbows where money fall from the sky. You should go there. No ulterior motives what so ever. No sir.
:D I would have to acquire a passport, which isn’t necessarily an easy task. And possibly a work visa. I don’t know if Sweden has work visas, or whether they issue them to strippers. I’ll look into it, because now I’m curious.
Language and cultural differences would definitely put me in some very interesting situations…I can understand the American and British accents, and can speak Spanish/understand Latin Americans speaking English, but I have a very difficult time understanding the English through the rest of the world’s accents.
It would be fucking cool to be in a place where rainbows and money fall from the sky, though. And I’ve always wanted to see a unicorn!
Looking for advice from experienced dancers who have traveled. Places to go, places to avoid, places to stay-the-fuck-out-of-at-all-cost. Places to make money, and places to experience. Dangers, warnings, advice, what’s legal/illegal, what’s accepted/not accepted. Any tips you have would be helpful.
Hit my ask box. If you prefer I not post your comment (because of specific locations, identifying details, etc), please say so and I won’t post it.
If you consider yourself a feminist, you need to read this. If you believe in human rights, you need to read this. If you are against the sex industry or pornography or prostitution or strippers, you need to read this. If you followed my blog because you thought stripping was interesting, you should read this.
Here’s the deal: I don’t like being rescued. I don’t like being told that I’m being exploited (uh, I don’t feel exploited?). I don’t like being told that I’m not smart or clever or resourceful enough to make my own decisions. I don’t like being told that I’m not allowed to use my body for work in whichever way I see most fit, provided consent is given. I don’t like being told that I should do XYZ because gawd, stripping must just be so awful. I don’t like being told that I should feel shame, guilt, sadness, or any other emotion because of my job (uh, I’m not ashamed of my job, and I don’t feel guilty for going to work, providing for myself by performing a service for which I am paid, and which keeps me off of welfare/begging/borrowing/etc).
This article explains, much more eloquently than I am capable, how to best help those working in the sex industry.
hey there... i am a former ballerina. : ]
and as far as your cheap ballet shoes go, they look fine - but as far as ballerinas go, we would only put ribbons on pointe shoes. otherwise, we just wear the flats with their little elastic and it's far easier to put them on. with the pointes, it helps to get that extra bit of the support from the ribbons. (they're tied tighter than in your picture there, traditionally.) that, and the ribbons look pretty.
it is a good look, n'est pas?
Hey, thanks for the background info! I totally appreciate it :D
I’m terrified to put on pointe shoes in case I do land funny off of a pole trick, and I really have no semblance of what I’d be doing in them as is. I also have no idea how to buy pointe shoes and shopping terrifies me.
I was completely amused by the flats for the afternoon, though…it is an excellent look (I have a lot of respect for the amount of work ballet takes, and always wanted to try it. I’m just super clumsy..). I’m sure I’ll pull them back out from time to time. ;)
That said, I am hesitant to post my income, online or otherwise, because I am quite private about it. My best friend has some clue what I make. I often lie to others, exaggerating what I do make. When I’m at the club, I will tell other girls whether I thought it was 1) a good night for me, 2) a good night for most girls, or 3) a bad night for me or other girls. Occasionally I offer up what I made to the other girls at the club, but certainly not if I’ve done extremely well or extremely poorly.
These two posts got me thinking for sure, though.
I think I exaggerate what I make to friends and family to justify my stripping to the “outside” world. To make it seem as though it’s absolutely so irresistable that anyone with a decent body and half a brain would do it…so of course a smart girl like me would, too. I think if they knew what I really made—which is no chump change for a girl without a college degree as it is!—they might up their efforts to talk me out of the choice I’ve made for myself.
My best friend, “L”, has some idea of what I make, but I occasionally inflate the number a little. She makes a larger income than I do, and I think some of the inflating stems from a little shame. That maybe I wasn’t as good, or as pretty, or as xyz as she was that night. I do it to protect my self-esteem, even though “L” is one of the sweetest women and would never think poorly of me for making $100 less than I said, anyway.
Part of what makes me hesitant to say more is pride. I am proud of what I make. I think what I make is absolutely phenomenal, and to hear otherwise might make me be a little bit hard on myself.
And I think with the other girls at the club, it’s difficult to make friends with those that aren’t in roughly the same income bracket as you are. “L” and I have discussed this at length. It’s not a matter of being stuck-up. It’s a matter of not wanting to be seen as a prostitute at the club (because I don’t prostitute…not because there’s something wrong with it, so long as the girls take it outside of the club), and it’s a matter of the amount of conflict/competition/underhandedness that can arise from envy.
I’m very connected to the money I make. I didn’t sit in a cube for the day, doing what it is that people do in cubes, to get one piece of paper with a number on it at the end of the week. I think getting a paycheck somehow disconnects people from the actual dollars they are receiving. I literally picked up dollar after dollar off of my stage, did some sort of boobies-in-the-face magic or waved my pussy at someone, and put those dollars on my garter. Those dollars are tangible. They aren’t numbers. They’re actual singular pieces of paper, and I think that makes a huge difference. What I was worth as a dancer was tipped to me, and I held the paper for it. There’s a big emotional impact there of spending that money, or of counting it, or of being honest to others about it. And those dollars that I earned in private dances were put in my hands, twenty after twenty (or hundred after hundred, depending!), and they were from the very hands that I touched, smelled, saw, felt on my body in so many ways. It’s a little different than other jobs.
So all judgement aside, here goes nothing. Because you are right, Story and Gypsy, hiding our incomes does have quite the negative effect when you get right down to it.
I’m still really shy about doing this, and in hitting “create post” I’m still not sure that I want to post it. Negative comments = post will be removed.
Now, keep in mind:
I am within the range of the top dancers in my club per night, but I work less often than many dancers, top dogs or not.
I live in the Midwest. Wages are high and cost of living is quite low, comparatively, here.
Because the state I live in is agriculturally-based, it means we aren’t hit as hard by recessions and inflation.
I’ve been dancing for two years. I don’t know what it was like prior to the 2008 major recession, but I hear that it was absolutely amazing.
I only write down my take-home income. This means I haven’t deducted taxes yet (~17% of my income, after deductions), and I don’t write down what I paid out to the house for dances and water and beer. I do know what I paid to DJs and bouncers and in house fees, so I’ll include those. DJs are tipped a minimum $10/night; bouncers are $10-20/night depending on the number of bouncers working. House fees are $10-40/night.
Winters are particularly hard on our club. They tend to be slow, and the club is hard to access sometimes in the snow and ice. I also live away from the city I work in, out in a rural area.
Whew. Here goes.
(PS: I just discovered the “read more” button. So you’ll have to click if you feel like reading more after that long-winded post.)
My goal in the past two months has been to find a way to save money and to pay off debt. I have about $1,800 in miscellaneous debts (things that went to collection, or will if I don’t pay them, or money owed to various people), about $7,500 left to pay on my car, and around a whopping $23,000 in student debt. I’ve been paying on my car and my student debt religiously, of course, but it’s a slow process. And I haven’t bothered paying on the stuff in collections, because it seems fruitless: my credit is already kind of trashed, and there’s enough of it that it doesn’t seem like it will ever go away.
Today I’m mailing $100 off to start paying on debt, starting with an old veterinary bill for my horse.
I’m also going to put $200 in savings. I’ve tried many times to save money, and always wind up spending it. Whether I get sick or hurt, or whether an unexpected expense happens, it always gets spent. It’s terribly disappointing. I hope like hell this time I can avoid spending it…but nevertheless, even if I do get sick or hurt, $200 is a week’s worth of food, gas, cigarettes, a doctor’s appointment, a prescription, and basic necessities. It’s enough to buy time with.
I’m really kind of proud of myself. I’m not usually so overtly responsible and forward-thinking and shit. And, these two goals are pretty important to me, so making just a little progress on each one gives me hope that I can keep doing it.
I used to have a regular—who has since moved away—that used to brief me on current national and world affairs. Jokingly, it was news that strippers need to know.
In all seriousness, it created a habit for me. My best customers, both those that I just plain enjoyed company from and those that spent the most money, have been the kinds of guys that have a greater-than-average understanding of these things. I was always aware of the very most major issues and events, but never so much of weekly or daily headlines. It became a habit to check the local, national, and international news, weather, and know about local events and politics.
I do use these things at the club. When men are shy to talk to me, or when conversation would otherwise be exhausted, or when I find out someone’s job or interests and can bring up a news tidbit, many times men are much more willing to get dances. I use it as a way to connect to the customers and to contribute to conversation. It comes in handy every time I work…and often earns me much more than I would otherwise make.
[Sidenote for other Tumblr strippers: I work in a club where a 20-minute conversation is quite normal in pursuing dances (typically when we know the guy probably has money), where regulars are very much bread-and-butter, and where hour-long discussions do take place. It’s not the kind of club that is more fast-paced and spending little time with each customer…at least, for those that make money.]
And so I have become very educated on major issues, learned arguments for beliefs and systems I don’t believe in (hey, agreement in something else taboo [politics and controversial issues] is a good way to get someone to like me), and kept up a lot more than I normally would on many smaller issues and events.
Lately, I’ve just felt overwhelmed with information. I’ve been watching documentaries that have sprung other questions into my mind and led to further investigating. And politics and history are least interesting to me; they were always my weakest subjects in school (I failed two history classes in high school, but slept through everything else with okay grades). It’s difficult for me to comprehend current events without understanding history very well. And it’s very difficult for me to decipher a lot of the bullshit of politics and opinions on current events. Between budget cuts to the controversial Planned Parenthood and other sectors, workers’ rights in Wisconsin and union controversies, the Christchurch earthquake and clean-up, the Obama presidency and policies, the current wars and international conflict, the local issues of gay marriage (legal here) and late-term abortion abolishment, and the dozen or more major ongoing issues which have their own current events (think: illegal immigration, marijuana legalization, budget deficit/deficit spending/national debt, the current ongoing wars, etc). Not to mention that it’s difficult to follow the Egypt/Libya unrest. I try to keep up on who all of the major players are in these events so that I can name them instead of saying “that one guy”.
It gets confusing for me. And what’s more confusing is knowing not only my position on the issue and being able to defend it, but also being able to have some understanding of the opposing view. Occasionally, a promising high-dollar customer turns out to be quite…conservative. And once the discussion is started (“Did you hear about the ____?”), I can’t always back out. I’ve been known to switch teams in pursuit of cash.
It’s confusing. And there are so many issues that, right now, I’m having a hard time keeping up on all of them. It’s a little frustrating and definitely overwhelming.
Granted, I actually care about keeping up on current events and being aware of the world around me, but I also would put much less effort into it if it wasn’t so profitable. I’d pick and choose my pet issues and read most about those.
Gah. Six forty-two a.m. and I’m still awake. It’s time for bed, by the looks of all of my miscellaneous rambling…
I don’t work at this club, but I do live about 150 miles from it.
Underage girls, really, Woody’s? Underage girls should be in high school, and going to prom, and giggling over boys and shit, not working in a nude strip club. Come on…have some decency.
At least the owners are being held accountable.
Followers: please don’t visit clubs that you know for sure employ underage girls. It doesn’t look good for anyone…especially you. I know you, classy followers, and you’d rather see beautiful, adult women, anyway.
Hey, Tumblr Strippers/Sex Workers: watch this documentary called “The Science of Sex Appeal”. I found it on Netflix (streaming to my computer), but I found a possible route to a YouTube version through YT user joschmo007. It’s an hour and twenty-seven minutes.
I’m just curious what others think. I just started watching it, and it’s very interesting to me…I’ll post more about it later. ;)
so i'm sure it doesn't mean much in the grand scheme of everything, but i wanted to offer my long distance support. i understand where you're coming from about the feelings that come from being assaulted, and it's probably the worst thing i've ever felt. i wouldn't wish it on anyone.
i don't know what i can say except to offer you my best wishes and my hope that the opportunity to vent has been good for you
Thank you. It was good to vent. I will be okay, sooner or later, but it’s good to get good wishes.
I was randomly thinking of you earlier, hoping you were okay, wondering how you were dealing with your own client issue.
Apologies for the extremely personal. Might be triggering for eating disorders and sexual assault…I haven’t figured out what I’ll say yet.
There are people close to me who will read this and sort of flip shit. I just need a place to vent without much of a response while I sort out how I feel, and damnit, Tumblr wins this time.
I’ve been trying to figure out how I feel all week.
I’m a tiny stressed, yes. My horse is injured, I’m trying to sell him (that is his purpose, to make me money, and he’s not just a pet—so a second injury hurts my wallet, too), and before he can see a vet, I have to pay the last vet bill off. I’ve been paying that bill forever, and I only have about $100 left to pay. It just never seems like there’s money to spare for things that aren’t vital. The injury isn’t vital, can and is being treated without a vet, and I/his caretaker are qualified to do so. I just need a paper saying that he isn’t extremely screwed up from a vet so that he will sell. It’s not as complicated as it sounds. So I need money for that, and the rest of rent, and a student loan payment (not a big deal, it’s just the time crunch factor).
I have a new boyfriend, who’s also an ex from over a year ago. And the past of the relationship is complicated. And the present of the relationship is complicated. I like him, without strings. Unfortunately, life has strings. I care about this guy a lot. I thought maybe I’d try it again…there was definitely a conversational spark meeting up for the first time in a long time. I’d gotten out of the engagement I was in and was rather happy about it. And this new boyfriend is an extremely good-hearted guy (Yes, he reads my blog. And no, I’m not stroking his ego. I don’t care to stroke anyone’s ego at the moment). But things with him are complicated. He’s a daydweller. He wants more time with me and more intimacy and more things from me than I am willing to give. He respects my boundaries, but I know that it isn’t a good start to a relationship to already withhold [withhold for personal reason, not as a punishment or moral thing]. I don’t know what to do. I’m confused on top of everything else, and right now, choosing not to deal with any of it, which is possibly making things crazier for both of us at the moment.
Those things are a little stressful, but I’ll deal. I always end up dealing with whatever it is.
Lately I haven’t been sleeping that well. Infrequent naps, spontaneous staying up for 24+ hours, taking sleeping pills to even get myself to sleep, and sleeping six hours or less being normal. Nightmares off and on, though less for now. Random nightmares, not so much specific nightmares.
I’ve been constantly doing something. Usually I can let my mind just settle, but for some reason, everything I do, I interrupt with something else. I cut back on caffeine and the complete restlessness is worse. I just feel like moving and staying put all at once.
Compulsive shopping? Yeeep. I blew a fuckload of money I didn’t have on shit I didn’t need (and half, didn’t really want that much) this week. Haven’t been able to bring myself to just not go into Wal-Mart. I just go in, blow a bunch of cash, and get home. And know it’s not what I want to do or how I want to spend money, and then feel guilty, so I use all of the stuff while thinking about returning the stuff. I hate it when I do this. I know when I’m doing this. And yet, moronically, I still do it. Sometimes buying shit makes me feel better and worse all at once.
I haven’t been hungry. At all. No physical interest in consuming food. But per wanting to stay recovered from the eating disorder I had, I try to force myself to eat. Which sometimes works, sometimes doesn’t. I’m craving weird shit and then not wanting it. I’m not wanting to eat other things that I wind up eating because I finally can make myself finish chewing and swallowing. It’s not a mental lack of interest in food; I love food and foodtimes now. I don’t want to be my old self. Thoughts still linger from the eating disorder, and they always will, but when I really think about it, and when it comes down to it, I keep making the decision to eat. Well, when I can. But I can’t say that it isn’t triggering for me to not be hungry. I am struggling with it.
I’m fearing that if I go back to work (obviously I’m naked at work), the other girls will comment on lost weight. It took me a week to tell my best friend what was going on; I don’t really want to talk about it with anyone except said best friend. At this point, it’s really private and personal to me, and I’m pretty sensitive about it. When it first came up that I’d lost weight, said best friend, knowing the history of eating disorder but not having witnessed it, kinda freaked—out of love and not wanting to see me hurt. (Thanks, best friend, for being there. For being observant, for making it clear that you’re not willing to be passive about a problem like that. I need that, even when it’s hard.) Once we sorted it out, it was okay, but it definitely took some explaining on my part that I’m not trying to lose weight. And I have. Maybe not a lot, but combined with increased pole workouts and toning up, I’ve dropped a little over a pants size. And clothing shopping stresses me out and I hate it and I absolutely refuse to buy new jeans. Ever. I either inherit them, or I grow/shrink back into an old pair. I haven’t bought jeans in years. I compromise with myself and occasionally buy sweatpants. But since my last pair of 2’s are MIA, I might have to buy a new pair soon. My 3’s are falling off my ass constantly and my 1’s don’t fit. Soon I shall try the old trick of washing jeans and drying them on high, because regular people don’t live in sweatpants or jeans that they hate the fit of/don’t fit them. It’s just a matter of convincing myself to do laundry, which I hate enough to not do more than once a month or less, and also, to get off my couch, which seems like a hassle for something as mundane as laundry.
I haven’t been having sex for well over two months. Twice, in that time, and both times kinda left me feeling pretty raw (both in a good way and in a not good way). I’ve chosen to not have sex since then, because…because I’m afraid I might just lose my mind. I do that, and it scares me when I do. ‘Cause I don’t get it back for a little while. And really, just being touched at all right now by anyone leaves me feeling the tiniest bit raw anyway. I have tried masturbating, and…just don’t care for it. I love masturbating, but it is definitely a mirror for how I feel about sex, whether I like it or not. And right now, my mind just wanders to places that throw me totally off guard, make me uneasy, and make me feel pretty awful and disgusting. So I quit bothering with it for now.
I have my period, again, which is inconvenient. I just had it two weeks ago. Stress induced periods? Not happy with it, can’t do much about it.
I started to think (privately for once) about why I might feel like this, why I might be headed towards a good fight with mania, why I might be all sorts of out of sorts. I don’t feel like myself right now.
I think it’s because of the shit in VIP. I really like to ignore sexual assault. I really do, and I’m not half bad at ignoring it. Ignoring it doesn’t make it go away, no, but I’m prone to procrastinating it long enough for it to become less intense and easier to deal with as the past. I don’t think I’m successfully procrastinating this time. I think it’s catching up to me faster than I can control it, and it’s my brain and body this time that feel like lashing out.
Fuck, maybe I just feel like lashing out for once.
Maybe I should lash out for once.
Maybe I don’t care whether I do or not, because I’m fighting with my own body and my own mind anyway and it’s frustrating and I fucking want that fighting to stop.
I’m a puddle of frustration and tears and I think this might be the second time I’ve cried over all of this…and my vocabulary and writing skills are going totally downhill in this post. I ought to have stopped 1,000 words ago. I just needed a place to fucking let it out.
My job was my safe place to express my sexuality, get a workout, make some money, feel safe in growing as a person. The bouncers were my guardians and they fucking failed. I trusted them. I trusted myself to not pick the wrong person, and did it just when I was getting very good at smelling trouble—did it, blinded by money. It was a reminder that my job is somewhat dangerous; life is somewhat dangerous; men are somewhat dangerous. And I’m falling into irrational judgement when I don’t necessarily believe these things entirely, but fuck…I definitely feel them.
And it wasn’t even that bad this time. That’s the kicker. I’m freaking out over something that was practically nothing and I know this and I still don’t know why.
I don’t need help; I don’t want touch, or seeing me cry, or sex, or food, or responsibilities at the moment, or to come out of my little bat cave in the woods. I want to pretend everything is fucking normal because it wasn’t that bad, and maybe normalcy will come true.
[/miscellaneous bloggish personal post]
[/insight into the shadows of Piper’s extra personal mind manure pile]