Lesson #26: Hide & Seek

It's something of a balancing act, being a peep show dancer and a cutter. I have an ever-expanding collection of arm-warmers, in order to cover my canvas of choice. Gloves won't do 'cause I need my hands and fingers free for private shows. The other day, I considered cutting on my legs, and then immediately realized how problematic that would be when it came time to appear onstage.

I imagine some will read this and be aghast at this admission, but truth be told, there are far worse things I could be doing to myself, like shooting up heroin or doing meth or smoking cigarettes. (Those things will kill you for sure.) So I don't worry about it too much. If it gives me the release I need in order to live through another fucking day, then it must be doing some good. I've just never had a job where I had to worry about covering it up before. Another lesson learned at the peep show ...

Lesson #25: Identity Crisis

Last night was my first shift back since going home to see my family for the holidaze. Any time I see my family, it affects me negatively. They're just toxic, and as with any form of toxicity, you have to purge it from your system before you feel right again. And I'm definitely not feeling right.

I first noticed it on the drive home from the airport. I noticed a heavy melancholy and thoughts of suicide. I noticed this tremendous sense of hopelessness and discontent. But I figured it was just the emotional and mental strain of the trip, the lack of sleep, and the over-indulgence in foods I don't normally put in my body.

Monday morning, at my day job, I was miserable. But that's pretty standard for my day job, so I didn't think too much about it.

But then, Monday evening, when I walked onstage at the peep show, I noticed this unusual feeling, as I watched myself in the mirrors, that I didn't know who or what I was looking at. And I had the thought, as I took in all the johnnies pulling on their wangs, "They are just so ridiculous," all these men, paying money for a peek of vagina. And then I looked around the stage and thought, "And how weird is this? - to be in a virtual closet with a bunch of naked women." It was right about then that I truly wished I had some sort of mood-altering substance in my locker. But all I had was Rescue Remedy, a homeopathic sedative I bought at the pet store for my dog. (I wasn't sure how he'd take to air travel.)

I also had the thought that I really wished I could be with Daddy, someone who actually sees me, unlike the johnnies or my family. All they see is a twat, or a prodigal daughter. Daddy sees more than that. At least, I think he does. I don't even know anymore.

Hence, identity crisis...

I'm Your Private Cancer

Lesson #24

Tonight was the first time I worked a "private show" shift and was really kind of not in the mood to perform. It was not a good or comfortable feeling. And it had nothing to do with work, and everything to do with my fuckin' histrionic ass. OMG! I can be such a basket-case at times. I'm considering re-entering therapy.

Anyway, I could have made more money tonight - I definitely could have milked this one johnny for more, had I been on my A-game. But alas! - I've got my head so far up my ass, I can almost see daylight.

Sabbatical

I've been away for a while.

Lesson #23

Shit happens, y'know? And in some cases, it's a whole lotta shit. I have to say, 2009 has been the most challenging year I've had in a while. I am really very seriously hoping 2010 is better. I'm not sure I'm up for worse.

Through it all, the peep show has been my one constant, the one thing that hasn't changed, the one safe place I could count on. Unexpected? Absolutely. Grateful? Yes, I am. Immeasurably so.

I hope to keep up more consistent entries now. At least until the next shit storm hits ...

Lick My Boots

Lesson #21

Had another foot fetishist tonight. When I put my feet up to the glass, he actually kissed it! :-O I wanted to scream at him through the glass, "Do you have any idea what gets on that glass???" Seriously. Gross! Gross! County of Gross!

Lesson #22

There are postings in every booth that say, "Be polite. Do not give orders." It's a courteous warning to the customers that they're going to get whatever the dancers decide to give them. They don't get to tell us what to do. A guy who tries to tell me how to run my show - "Shake your tits...turn around...show me your ass...bend over..." - is immediately on my shit list. This ain't Burger King; I don't take orders and, no, you can't have it your way.

Biatch.

A Funny Thing Happened ...

Lesson #16

It absolutely astounds me how willing men are to throw away money just for a couple of minutes of undivided attention from an attractive woman, and if it's two women - holy shit! - they're willing to go bankrupt! I'm starting to see where the whole "gold digger" mentality comes from.

Lesson #17

My favorite pair of dance shoes broke while I was onstage tonight. :-( One of the other dancers was generous enough to allow me to borrow a pair of hers. The only problem was, I'm accustomed to dancing in 3" heels and she uses 6" heels. I spent the remainder of my shift in fear for my life. I will never, ever go to work with only one pair of shoes in my bag again.

Lesson #18

I'm learning that the fetishistas will typically be very well-behaved. I'm assuming it's 'cause they're so accustomed to getting shot down when they reveal what they're into (ie. foot worship, armpit licking, tickle torture, etc.), if you're willing to indulge their fantasy - holding your shoes up to the glass, raising your arms so they can get a good look at your underarms - they will be the most gracious customers you'll get all night.

Lesson #19

It had to happen eventually, right? Of course. I got my first sexual proposition while onstage tonight. A customer mouthed through the glass, "How much?" I was confused; I wasn't sure if he was asking how much it would cost to have sex with me, or if he was asking how much my boobs cost (since he was staring at them so hard). Since the only thing fake about my rack is the sunless tanner they're covered in, it made me scratch my head.

Lesson #20

Wanna know how quickly you can reach into a toilet? Drop your iPhone into one. I strongly recommend skipping this lesson.

It's All In How You Look At Things

Lesson #15

I find my mainstream day job totally degrading. I find dancing in the peep show totally empowering. Sure, I have an off day here and there, but it's because I'm tired, or my back is bothering me, or I don't like the way I look, or something like that. It's never because I don't feel good about the work I'm doing, the service I'm providing, the person I am. And that seems strange to me, because I think most people would consider dancing naked while men masturbate "degrading to women." You hear that a lot. "Stripping is degrading to women." "Pornography is degrading to women." "Rap music is degrading to women." Well, what about working for minimum wage? I think that would be degrading, man or woman. And that's exactly why I took the peep show job, because when my day job hours got cut by more than 50% and I was faced with the inability to pay my rent and other bills, I thought to myself, "Well, I can go work at Target for pennies, or I can be a desk slave in an office somewhere with a shit schedule, or I can make better pay doing something I love." 'Cause the bottom line here is that I love to dance. It's a passion, probably the purest and oldest passion in my life. I've been dancing since I was six years old. The fact that I'm naked masturbatory fodder for men makes no difference to me. As Daddy says, you think men aren't fantasizing about me anyway? And for free? Of course they are! Might as well make it be on my terms, and get paid for it.

Skin

Lesson #14

Some days, dancing makes you feel vulnerable and insecure, about your body, about your morality, your goals, your college education (or lack thereof). But other days, like today - a day off - I actually wish I was dancing.

• I feel like I could go in right now and put in an hour or two without pay and it would improve my mood and outlook on the day. I can't think of another job I've ever had that I would actually consider doing for free. There's something about being a part of that menagerie that makes me feel good about myself, strong, and powerful. Maybe it's because I've struggled all my life with body image, and I'm finally at a place where I like the way I look, enough so that I'm willing to be on display fully nude. I've heard people say, "Little girls don't grow up dreaming of becoming strippers." But you wanna know something ironic about that? I used to have the thought, after patronizing strip clubs, "Wow! I would love to feel confident enough about my body to be able to dance naked for people." Granted, I didn't have that thought as a child, but I did have it. So in a way, this is something of an achievement for me, a goal met. It's not about what's happening on the other side of the glass. It's all about me, and that I am, at long last, comfortable in my own skin.
  

Welcome to the Doll House

Lessons #1-13

I am a shake dancer. Welcome to my blog.

I just finished my third week working at the local peep show, and it really is literally a peep show, not a standard strip club. We dance behind glass. Customers step into a private booth (One to a booth, please!), deposit money in various denominations, the screen goes up and, voila! - they have access to us, the naked dancing girls.

After three weeks of doing this, here are the lessons I've learned thus far:

#1) Men are OBSESSED with pussy.

• It was simultaneously humorous and pathetic to witness this fact so plainly. I guess it's just the way they're wired. They can't help it; it's biology. I have to say, I feel a little sorry for the male gender. I mean, I cannot imagine being that fixated on a body part. But, as Daddy explained to me, they just do what they do. It's like a bee buzzing from one flower to the other. You don't question it or judge it. It just is what it is. So if I'm going to dance naked behind glass, of course men are gonna act like hormone-crazed teenagers and whack-off. Still, as a woman, I have absolutely nothing to compare it to in my personal experience. I mean, it takes a hell of a lot more to get me off than just staring at someone's genitals. The closest I think I ever got to that kind of idée fixe was my absolute obsession with Duran Duran in junior high school. But I'm not sure that's the same thing.

#2) Men have no shame in the face of pussy.

• One guy told me I was his "favorite." (Keep in mind, he'd never seen me before.) Um, his favorite what? Dancing twat? Puhleeeeez.
• Another guy said he loved me. This was not as shocking; I'm sure a lot of the men in my past have said, "I love you," when what they really meant was, "I would love to fuck you."
• One customer brought a big, black dildo in the booth with him and proceeded to suck it while watching us dance.

#3) Every now and then, there'll be a guy who looks past the pussy and is actually accessible enough to have fun with. (He's pro'ly gay.)

#4) Every now and then, there'll be a guy you'd actually consider fucking. (He's pro'ly gay too.)

#5) Sometimes, in this business, you just gotta take a day off for your own mental health. (Back to back, closing and opening shifts are a BAD idea.)

#6) Some nights, you just don't feel like making eye contact. Some nights, you just don't feel that generous.

#7) Some nights, you can smell your own snatch and it's quite off-putting. (Cleansing towelette, anyone?)

#8) A foot fetishist can make your whole night. (And he's pro'ly not gay.)

• He actually asked if he could buy the shoes I was dancing in. Being a dancer, that really meant something to me.

#9) It can take as little as 40 minutes to end up with glitter on your snatch. All it takes is one girl wearing some. That shit gets everywhere.

#10) You want a good show? Then fucking SMILE at me! It makes you look like less of a weirdo.

#11) A "breast man" with a great smile and openly into nipple-play will generate so much sympathy from me, I'll risk missing my break just to make sure the guy gets off.

• I didn't miss my break. I think he could hear the other girls through the glass, telling me it was my break time. He mouthed, "Thanks, baby," and put his dick away. Nice guy!

#12) In every bunch, there's The Girl Who'll Never Like Me and The Diva. I happened to meet them both during the same shift. Can anyone say, "Tense and awkward,"?

#13) Some days, you feel fat. Fat and ugly. No matter what you do. Some days, you feel like no one actually wants to be looking at you. These days come and go. You can't spend that many hours around beautiful, naked women and not compare yourself, especially when you're surrounded by mirrors and vying for the attention of paying customers. You just gotta roll with it, and let it go. Don't let that shit infect your brain or you'll end up an anorexic twig. (Daddy would not like that.)

All in all, it has been a very educational, fun, and at times, exhausting three weeks. I don't know how long this job is going to last, but I do know I'm going to learn a lot about human nature, and a lot about myself.

I am a shake dancer, and this is my world ... for now.