Sometimes I still marvel at my dancing career, that it ever happened. As I’ve mentioned in a previous post, I am convinced I was ovulating when I called up the club and got an interview. I had to be – how the fuck did I get the balls to take that first step? You’ve got to understand, I was working full-time on a dairy farm, and was sooo rough around the edges. I wasn’t girly at all, didn’t ever get dressed up, didn’t hang out with other girls…literally I was working 60 hours a week, from 5 AM to 5 pm 6 days a week. I didn’t have much of a life elsewise.
I was also miserable and desperate for something different.
The other important factor in this saga? I was a horny motherfucker. So, lack of femininity aside…I had the hormones.
The first couple of weeks dancing were strange, nerve racking and mind boggling- so many weirdos! So many naked bodies! So much money for doing NOTHING!!
But also, it didn’t take long for me to feel like I belonged in that club, and that I had found my people. But I wonder – how was I able to go from the dairy farm to the stripclub, so seamlessly?
It is a very strange “career shift”, if you will. It’s not like I was acting like a hoochie before I started dancing, and just needed to “legitimize it”. I was already married to my first husband, which might make it seem even stranger.
One aspect of dancing that I loved, was how it seemed like you were stepping into a whole other world, when you let that door close behind you. No windows, neon lights, low music….it’s easy to both be noticed and to hide. Seemingly cut off from the outside world, with a select type of people…stripclub coziness, maybe?
Perhaps one of the biggest factors was the instant gratification you get, walking around in a skimpy outfit, around a bunch of horny men. Men go for all shapes, and sizes, and you will get the looks, and the beckons, and the insults and the implications. Yeah, most of it is talk, but still- hearing it every single night really works on your self esteem.
I loved the lack of rules and free atmosphere- cursing, inappropriate stories, comments, ass slapping – so much goes on in a strip club that would get your ass fired with charges pressed in a hot minute at a regular job! You know what my “interview” was? I was taken upstairs, through the dressing room full of naked women, and brought into the “office” where the owner was, smoking a cigarette. He was a big fat guy, with sauce staines on his shirt. He told me they had one test for employment, and that was if I could get naked in front of him.
I stripped down, in that smoke filled room, right in front of the guy. I know, I know, so sketch-tastic, right? (Don’t worry- the owner was a bit leacherous, but I had no evidence nor heard anything about him giving out more than a shit eating grin.)
Throughout my dancing career, I worked at a couple of other clubs, but I never felt at home like I did at the first one. Over the years, it became a second home, where my girls and I went to after a couple of hours getting drunk downtown. Inevitably, we would end up naked and on the stage.
Looking back, I am grateful I had those years in the strip club life. I’m glad I got to experience it, and meet the crazy, talented people I met and had the crazy experiences I had. It taught me so much about life, and relationships and sexuality.
Let me end this by saying…I am also grateful that I am not still trying to make a living with it. It had lost its charm by the time I left and I was starting to turn into one of those crabby lazy strippers. It was time for me to go, when I went. (If you recognize yourself getting bitchy and lazy, make your exit- it’s not a good look.)