Check out SINSuality!
You will find sex information, advice and more!
Sex is always better with a little SINSuality!
Check out SINSuality!
You will find sex information, advice and more!
Sex is always better with a little SINSuality!
I HATE drama. I hate people who cause drama even more…
At the strip club, most of the strippers are in what I call, arrested development. For some reason, no matter how old most strippers are, they seem to be stuck back in grade school. The way strippers gossip is way worse than any game of telephone I can imagine. When a stripper walks by while someone is telling a story, it makes no difference that she does not know the whole story because whatever parts she hasn’t heard, she will just make up as she tells it to another stripper. I believe all strippers should be writers because let me tell you, they are not only avid talkers but more creative than anyone I know…
Another thing they are good at is slightly altering the story so it seems that they were somehow directly involved in situation even when they have absolutely no clue what they’re talking about!!!
There I sat, in Stripperclub One’s dressing room, again… on the wrong side of the vanity, just about to enjoy the lemon chicken in front of me and… NO FORK! Damn it!!! I created a few new words to describe my feeling and spoke them under my breath while looking for something that could be used as a fork… No luck… So I stole Serenity’s fork… (Hey we’ve kissed before no biggy right?)
I sat down and started to eat with one hand and re-curl my hair with the other, when one of the night girls plopped down in the chair next to me. She dramatically sighed and started talking…In my head I wonder why do they always come sit next to me and want to TALK like we know each other??? I continued my rant in my head until I was interrupted by my name… “and you know Foxxxy? You won’t believe what happened, girl…”
“Well you won’t believe what she was doing in a bedroom dance the other day…”she continued to explain what I did and I just stared at her with my mouth open… Wow, how’d I manage to bend that way? I will have to ask myself and see if I can teach me how to do that!!!
Finally I couldn’t control myself anymore.
“Ummm you do know I AM Foxxxy… Right?”
That shut her up!
I completely understand the concept “Money good, poverty bad. (The most intelligent thing ‘Bob’ has ever said!)” It would also stand to reason that most people would want to maximize there earning potential when at all possible, especially when all you have to do is sit next to someone and look pretty…
There wasn’t a day that went by, that a manager didn’t come to me and tell me to go sit with customers and constantly remind me, “You are missing out on money when you don’t sit with the customers…”
Some may think I was a lazy stripper… and I may very well have missed out on alot of money because I refused to sit next to customers… but my refusals probably kept me out of jail and prevented the club from being sued. Bottom line is; I made what I needed. Besides I have never ever said I wanted to be rich! Only that I want to have enough money to get by without worrying.
I hate fake people and I am not a good liar. Yep so, stripper is the ideal job for me!!!! (Sarcasm at its finest again!) I avoid socializing most of the time because I am a little too honest and sometimes can’t help pointing out that you are an idiot if you are. And I certainly couldn’t sit there and pretend I am interested in what the customers were say nor could I let the customer think he had a chance of actually taking me home… I also have a hard time sympathizing with the guy who wants to sit there and complain about himself and exaggerate about how great they are… How can I sit there and agree when you’ve left your wife at home, lying to her that you had to work late? Ok so maybe not every customer is like that and sometimes I would sit with a customer…
I’m not big on chaos, so working in totally nude clubs and on day shift, suited me just fine. Not only was day shift a slow relaxed pace but also didn’t have as much competition. A lot of the time it was dead, so we sat around smoking and waiting for customers. Even when things picked up, I got away with a lot of slacking… any other stripper would have been fired! Why did I get special treatment? Well I was a different kind of stripper… Where do I start? Let’s see…
I was always early for my shift… I was ready to walk on stage as soon as I got to the club… Timothy new he could always count on me to cover the stage if needed (once we only had three girls on shift and I wound up on stage every six minutes)… I would dance to just about whatever the DJ wanted to play (with the exception of Rue Paul)… I always tipped my DJ and Waitresses well and I never participated in drama!
So, if I was having a lazy day and just wanted to Blah all shift long, I could. You could often find me sitting on the first couch on the platform. You have no idea how many times I was asked why I always sat in that particular spot when there were other areas that were popular hang outs. Sometimes I forget, what is obvious to me may not be so obvious to others. So until I realized this is such the case, I would answer the question vaguely.
The truth was, I liked this spot because it was under one of the few dim lights, bright enough to allow me to read.
One day I was sitting there reading when a customer waltz in… our first customer of the day. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see him eyeballing me as he shuffled around to find a seat. I did not have to look up to know he was sitting somewhere in the first row of tables but purposely not at the tip rail so he could get a free show… “Foxxxy standby…” Timothy announced and I was already walking toward the stage.
I finished my set, saw no tip, exited the stage, went back to my couch and continued reading where I left off. Timothy played a long, time killer song. I could feel Mr. Cheapo staring at me… The next girl did her thing on stage… still no tip… she asked for a dance and was turned down…. Oh joy, Foxxxy’s turn again. (Why are there never any girls there when the club had customers and never any customers when the girls are there?)
No tip again. OK Timothy had already started making comments to make the guy feel like a douchebag and break down and tip; ok my turn Mr. Douche…. I sat down on front center stage tip rail, staring Mr. Douche down. They always start to fidget a little and shift their weight when my stare is getting unbearable. It almost took the entire song before Mr. Douche finally gave up two bucks… Exiting stage, I returned to my book. Out of the corner of my eye, again I saw him approach. I looked up at him and understood how animals at the Zoo must feel.
Mr. Douche was definitely confused. Then he asked the stupidest thing… “Ummm are you reading??” I thought to myself, no dumb ass the book is a cover for what I am really doing… “Yes…” I answered…. He stayed there for a moment in silence, then repeated his question.
I wanted to ask him if I were unknowingly speaking a foreign language but instead I answered, “I know it is hard to believe but I can feed and dress myself too!” Just when I thought, he couldn’t possibly say something more stupider, “Really?”
Smartass by nature, I simply said “No not really…” and ignored whatever he said after that…
Life is full of ironies. Let’s talk ‘dressing rooms.’ For some reason, those who are not strippers are intimidated by the strippers’ dressing room. It is like a taboo of the highest kind… Do they really think upon crossing the threshold an omniscient voice will thunder “Infidel” if you are not a stripper? Well now that I think about it, there is an omniscient voice but I always called him Timothy and the voice was saying ‘check sound’, not so much “Infidel!” I definitely see how the two could easily be confused… (That was sarcasm in case you couldn’t tell.) Right… Focus Foxxxy!
OK so here is the truth about the dressing room… Brace yourselves, I am about to dispel a lot of fantasies… The dressing room is a public rest room with lots of mirrors and counter space! There it is… The truth!!!
I know it is hard to believe magic does not take place back there… Girls walk in looking like hell, dressed in rags, slippers and if you’re lucky, the rats nest of hair is at least pulled up into a pony tail… Then an hour and a half later that same girl walks out, drop dead gorgeous. Ok so maybe I can see how one may be led to believe there is something magic going on…
Trust me, there is NOTHING glamorous about the dressing room. In fact, an outsider would probably think it was downright disgusting. Picture this for a moment… Go back to the locker room from High School… Now replace the center lockers with a very large vanity mirror and counter-tops with electrical outlets running all the way down. Now imagine the brightest, hottest light bulbs you can find and run those all the way across the top. (We need those light bulbs so we don’t have to depend on the little, flickering one over our heads. Ha ha… That was a joke… See I have a sense of humor.) Next, take a bag of makeup, some curling irons, blow driers and other bathroom appliances and dump it all over the counter in a huge pile… Perfect, now repeat until the entire counter is full! Now imagine the smell of the perfume section of a department store just after a child has sampled each perfume then add stale cigarette smoke. (Almost done… you are doing well!) Now scatter a few strippers around.
Now here is the important part… At least one of the girls should be on their cell phone talking about who she screwed the night before, a few should be chatting with each other at the top of their lungs (probably trying to talk over the girl on the phone), and another should be eating a salad or Chinese food. NOW *** ENTER next girl for stage*** She will stand right next to the girl eating, lift her leg, grab a fresh tampon hustle into a stall, re-emerge seconds later, do something that look extremely dangerous with some scissors (**hears her intro for stage**) rush back to the girl eating bend over, then ask politely, “My string isn’t showing is it?” (This isn’t even the amazing part…) The amazing part is that the girl eating will stop to focus her attention and answer, “No, you’re good.” And pick her salad back up and resume eating just as nothing even happened.
Yeah… Stripper dressing rooms are HOT.
Timothy once told a new DJ, “Play anything for her and she will make it sexy!!!” Awwww you’re too kind. So many times, I would pick up the intercom for check sound and just say surprise me… or you know what to play…
Timothy and I were at Tiny D’s one day and surprisingly it was busier than usual on day shift. I just finished a private dance when Timothy asked me to check sound. I just give him a shrug in the security camera and he knew to play whatever… One last glance in the mirror… there’s my name… and enter…. I froze…
What is this?
This cannot be for me…. Rue Paul “Work it? “ Timothy must have fell and hit his head. I immediately turned and walked off stage… Timothy gave my intro again…. Still no Hennessy on stage… Timothy made a comment about the invisible dancer… and tried to coax me onto the stage. By the fourth intro, I was already in my street clothes and walking out the door. The manager barked at me to get on stage, when I continued toward the exit he warned me if I left don’t bother coming back. Don’t worry; I said in my head, I wasn’t planning on it. I was so relieved that I didn’t have a split personality anymore. And so there was no more Hennessy…
I had been dancing for about two years at this point… I was in the best shape of my life physically and mentally. Since my self esteem was at an all time high, its no wonder that I was ready to make some changes in my life.Up until this point of my life, I suffered from depression. When I was a teenager I had been diagnosed with everything from OCD to Bipolar Disorder. At the time I had been prescribed Zoloft, Temazepam and Xanex, they said I needed theses medications as part of my ongoing treatment and therapy. For all these years prior to this, doctors insisted that I had mental issues and could not function without medication… Turns out all I needed was a divorce! As soon as my husband (ex) moved out I stopped taking all the prescriptions and wound up feeling better than I had ever felt! Go figure, right!
Floorwalkers are like bouncers, they walk around making sure everyone is behaving, as they count dances so the girls can’t rob the poor club of money due to them. On day shift, the DJ is the floorwalker. Floorwalkers do not start until 5 pm. Floorwalkers see day shift girls on stage and probably recognize a few but know every one of the 150 + night shift girls. Sometimes the club picks up around 5 pm and gets busy… it is hard for the DJ to keep track of girls coming on shift while trying to keep an eye on the day girls so they don’t rob him of his hard earned tip. When it starts picking up and the floorwalkers are there, they are supposed to let the DJ know if the girl is in a dance when the DJ checks sound. Check sound is the way the DJ gives the girls a heads up that they are next and they can request specific music. It also gives the floorwalkers the chance to let the DJ know if the next girl is in a private dance and to go onto the next girl. Girls are fined a late stage fee if they are called and do not appear on stage… Therefore, communication is really important. (Thus the reason floorwalkers are tipped very well).
Timothy, a floorwalker and I were goofing off just chatting… when Hennessy (my alter ego) came up. Keep in mind I am at Stripperclub One… Just before Foxxxy is due on stage, I am asked for a private dance. Mid-song, I hear Timothy check sound for ‘Courvoisier.’ Ha Ha Timothy, very funny… like these idiots are gonna know that Hennessy and Courvoisier are both Cognac and figure out you are checking sound for me! Wait a second… FUCK! And we aren’t even at Tiny D’s (WRONG CLUB EINSTEIN!) OK there is about a minute and a half between sets. I can do this.
The guy took forever to tip me… I snatched the money out of his hand and mumbled thanks as I turn to dash for the stage. No time for panties, but shoes were on but not buckled “Heeeeeere’s Foxxxy…” Stumbling, out of breath… don’t forget to smile and look seductive. My face must have had “holy shit” written all over it… And there is Timothy pointing and laughing… as I attempted to look sexy and buckle my shoe… He announces over the mic… ‘sorry Foxxx I was a little confused…’ nodding my head and rolling my eyes I made it through the set and made a decent amount of tips on stage for it too!
No problem at all, until Foxxxy was needed at Tiny D’s a short while later. I clocked in as Foxxxy and was told to pick another name, Foxy was already taken. What?!?!?!? Management are a bunch of idiots, Foxxxy was no longer in the systems at Tiny D’s… Great now what? Can’t remember who, but someone suggested Hennessy. Good of name as any I suppose.
In the grand scheme of things, management was stupider than I originally thought. The urgency for transferring the DJ must have been slightly premature because guess who was needed back at Tiny D’s? This was not necessarily a bad thing, more confusing than anything. Turns out my DJ worked shifts with me at both clubs. Great, now the DJ gets to share my split personality too! Foxxxy at Stripperclub One and
Hennessey at Tiny D’s… easy enough? Yeah right.
We are going to call my DJ Timothy because he hates that name and it annoys him that he lets me get away with calling him that! So a little about Timothy.. He is a kick ass DJ… the BEST!!! He does awesome lighting and smoke effects onstage and keeps the crowd excited. He promotes the girls and offers deals that won’t make the girls work for free and is the trivia king of almost all music, but especially the 80s (my fave). He knows what music to play for the crowd and what to say to get the lame customers enjoying a free show to fess up some tips. Even better, Timothy is not only a great DJ but a great friend too; always makes you to smile no matter how much you don’t want to. So it boils down to simple concepts… Timothy is a good friend! And the best part is that he loves to joke and since we both share a sick sense of humor when it comes to confusing others and Darwinism is the root of our evil!!!
Combine all that with my new stripper split personality and you see sanity is hard to find….
Wednesday was finally here, my first day to officially start at Tiny D’s. I already had my hair and makeup done when I got to the club. Club opens at 11 am and I was there by 10:30, ready to go on stage by 10:45 am. Only one problem… no customers… there goes that light bulb again…. No other girls yet either… I am literally here all by myself!!! Off to the stage I went… I danced to music in my head… eyes closed, imagining a crowd of people… song over… ****CLAP CLAP CLAP*** Wow my imagination is good…. My eyes popped open, I almost screamed, there was the DJ sitting center stage…. Awe he even had two dollars on the tip rail for me… how nice, still a little creepy, but at least he was tipping…
The Dj and I talked about the music I dance to, how long I had been dancing, what kind of stage effects I like (stage effects??? Idk surprise me. ) We laughed and I allowed some of my sarcastic personality come through. I was glad to have an ally on my first day at the new club. After a couple of girls came in, I noticed on the white board next to the DJ booth, was the stage rotation list for the girls. The only name on there was Foxxxy… as more girls were ready for the stage, their names were added to the list under Foxxxy… Oh… There is that light bulb again…. Awe… Foxxxy is born….
Before I knew it almost a year went by, and of course, things just couldn’t stay the same… It never fails, every time something is going smoothly and I am content, my world has to be tossed upside down. My DJ was being transferred to a sister club… all kinds of changes were in the works…. Before I knew it Fred was already at the sister club and the new DJ just sucked… I was miserable and told my DJ how miserable I was all the time. I also told him how much his replacement sucked which he didn’t mind so much.
Finally, my DJ suggested I audition at the sister club. They were looking for girls and Tiny D’s was slow. Duh!!! Guess my light bulb burned out… Stripperclub One was more than happy to have me but Tiny D’s did request I return when they were short on girls… No problem here…
Back to my list….. hmmm Tiny D’s (ok not the real name but you get the drift). I’ve seen the marque for this one! And the logo is really cute!!!! Audition!!!! Yeah!!!! I was confident, now that I was a pro and all… And what I mean by pro is that I can dance in my heel and actually get my clothes off with little disaster… Go Foxxxy!!! My audition was announced and ‘Sir Psycho Sexy’ started to play. I walked out on stage (from the dressing room entrance, how cool is that!!!), doing well so far, haven’t fallen…. Yet… Ok, reaching for the pole, grabbing the pole, partial spin…. Holy hell what the fuck just happened??? The pole moved… I caught myself before falling to the death of my ego… Shit! Someone could have warned me about the spinning pole!
Another light bulb flickered above my head… so that is how they spin around the pole like nothing to it…. Audition was over and I was surprised that they asked me back after the look of death I flashed the manager and the DJ as I saved my ego’s life onstage. After I agreed to a schedule, it was time for me to come up with a stage name…. Paige… Ok the DJ said and added…”Paige for now but its temporary… we will change it in a few days…” I wanted to ask what was all this ‘we’ stuff… but figured I really didn’t want to have to do another audition, so I smiled and left.
Let’s review… needed a job… found a club to hire me… spent $150 on a costume… spent $90 on shoes…. Increased smoking habit $20… gas looking for shoe store $15… week worth of tips for the waitress $30… My actual income was about $80 for baring it all!
****Wow two posts in one day, I am living on the edge!!!****
Cut my losses and find a different career? No not Foxxxy, Foxxxy must try, try again. Hmmmmmm lets see exactly how many strip clubs are in Vegas…. I will choose one with a better name, one that does not elude Hoes work at it…. Pussycats? No sounds a little too experienced! Cheetah’s? Nope have to be 21 years old, serves alcohol. Wait I just came from a club that had a bar… I didn’t have any problem with age… “Was it a reputable club?” the person on the phone asked.
I assumed that was a rhetorical question and said good-bye. I was half way done with my list and then the little light bulb above my head flickered… The topless clubs serve alcohol so you have to be over 21…. So that means… I felt the smile slink off my face… Next on the list was Striptease… Hey there is a movie named Striptease, it must get lots of business and be awesome!! I walked in for my audition. At first, I stood in the entrance with my mouth open, just staring… It was huge! Look at the stage!!! It was Huge!!! OMG!!! Look at the dressing room! It was Huge!!! Look at the shift schedule! It was Huge!
I was in awe of Striptease and honestly never thought they would actually hire me… with it being Huge and all. They liked Foxxxy and wanted her to stay and work on the spot… Now I need a stage name…. I am so unprepared!!! How about Stephanie? The manager looked at me, looked at my ID, looked back at me and said, “Usually the stage name is different from your real name, you know for privacy purposes and of course your safety…” Oh, ok… hmmmm Paige? And it was so…. Don’t tell anyone but I tricked that manager… Paige is my middle name… lol see now who is laughing???
So for about three months, I practiced and learned and watched… I was doing pretty well, when the manager started strongly suggesting I switch to a night shift. I didn’t want a night shift I wanted to work normal job hours… Another week or two and the manager decided I was going to work nights. I gave it a try… After one night I quit…
… So now educated by my ‘Sensei’ I was now on a mission to find the perfect stilettos. I had done all right at work that day (at least in my naïve opinion) after pay out at the club I had about $40 to spend on shoes. I would have never guessed it would be so hard to find a shoe store that carried stripper shoes! Naïve little Foxxxy was actually shocked when Payless told her they did not carry such a shoe! Hey give me a break, I had only been in my new career a total of four days and I was a still young and dumb…
Finally, I found a stripper shoe store (ironically) right next to the store I bought my costume at. (How’d I miss it there the other day?). See, I have come to find that anytime you are in a store and the merchandise does not have a price tag clearly showing the price, you automatically should assume the item is expensive; however, I had not come up on such wisdom at the time, so I wound up killing about 45 minutes waiting for someone to help me. I know the store was really busy with the one customer waiting for help and all but 45 minutes, really?
I damn near fainted when she told me the shoe I was holding was on sale for $220. “I’ll be back…” and I rushed out the door. Can heels really make that much of a difference???
I managed to make it through my first week at the job… I was ecstatic that I made almost $400 for my first week! (Again Foxxxy was naïve back then…) Oh yeah by the way, I say Foxxxy but this was way before Foxxxy existed, funny though, I honestly can’t remember what my stage name was… its not like the juke box needed to know my name, the club didn’t have a DJ, after all.
I was ready for week two!!!! I was determined… I invested in some stilettos, although not for $220, more like $90. There I was at the club armed with my new investment. It never occurred to me that I may not be able to walk in stripper heels, let alone dance in them… Costume on…. Face painted…. Hair curled…. Shoes on…. Off to the stage I go…. Whoa!!!! So this is what it’s like to be normal height? Interesting… Careful, Foxxxy…. Slowly Foxxxy… Made it to the main area! Stage time… Uh oh it’s dark in here… **Aerosmith starts to play** Here’s the wall, I’ll just use it as a guide… KERRRRRRRRRRRRRR SPLAT… Damn, that sucked and with all customers here watching… (That was sarcasms at its finest right there). Good thing my first club was a total dive and no one came there unless they were desperate or a regular for one of the girls. So my pride was not hurt too badly, unfortunately my ankle, knee and wrist were… Now I was just mad at the stupid club… It hated me so that it spitefully lifted that little piece of carpet up intentionally and tripped me.
So I quit.
In my last post I wrote about the importance of shoes. It has been several years since I have been a stripper and yet shoes are still haunting me. Now, in a marketing position, I am find myself standing all day. Because this is a new job, I have to start out in the field and work my way up to management. In the past, I have more than enough sales experience, never had a problem selling anything before, it was putting up with the customers that caused me problems… and anyone who knows me would tell you Foxxxy has no problem talking!
So, there I am at work, my second day in the field… realizing I would be standing for several hours, I dressed in flats. The day before, I was only doing intro but today I would be pitching, or at least so I thought… So I approach my first customer, get my intro out and turn and burn… Out of the corner of my eye, I see the customer following me back to the booth. I know my pitch inside and out, I feel confident. We reach the both and I open my mouth… “This is our most popular piece…” Wait! Nothing came out… and now there are no thoughts in my head… I’m blank… I look helplessly at the Mage (I call him that because the guy training me is into D & D) and he takes over.
OK, pull it together Foxxxy, Its only natural to have stage fright… never mind that you had no problem getting naked in front of total strangers with no problem, you’ll be fine with the next customer.
By the end of my shift, I had only stumbled through a handful of pitches. Oh this is bad. I discussed my problem with several resources through the day with no help, we were all stumped.
The next day, I wore my heels. Pitched all day long with no problem. Could it be the shoes?
Evidently, my confidence is in my shoes and when I don’t wear my heels, I loose about 4 inches of confidence. So my new dilemma is whether or not coming home every night with swollen, aching feet are worth it!
What other choice do I have?
Shoes really close the deal!!!
I was unaware of how important shoes are to an outfit. Even less, was I aware that men really are into shoes. Sure, they make jokes at women and their 101 pairs of shoes but turns out, men are just as much into shoes as women are. I, on the other hand, am not fond of shoes. Being flat-footed makes just about any normal shoe uncomfortable, not to mention the shoes that try to bend your feet in an unnatural way.
I didn’t expect to make tons of money from the start, I was still learning, after all, but after a week or two the house was still taking pity on me by waiving my stage rent, in addition to giving me $2 from the register for the jukebox. I was a little discouraged, to say the least. Finally, I asked one of the girls what I was doing wrong. I was surprised that she was so willing to give honest feedback. It turned out the feedback was even helpful.
I learned, in addition to experience, I needed to be more outgoing, more confident and most important, I needed new shoes. Outgoing… ok for me this was sort of an ongoing project. It was hard for me to lose the ‘I have no desire to speak to you’ vibes; and since I never really thought of myself as attractive, much less worthy of being paid to show my body… well I understood these two components; but shoes, really? Can the customers even see feet up there and aren’t they looking at other parts a little more interesting than feet? After my mind processes the most obvious questions and I had time to think a little more on the subject, I realized shoes may actually be the key. Think about it, what other accessory can change the entire look of an outfit? What other accessory can change a person’s physical appearance? What do I have to lose? It may be nice to be taller than 4 foot 11 anyway….
Remembering my first stripper gear shopping experience, I knew that there were a ton of different styles of stilettos to choose from. So how do I pick? Ahhhh back to my old friend Lycos!!! The things you can learn from the internet… I was shocked to find out that stilettos do a whole lot more than you realize!!!
The most important contribution shoes can make to your appearance has to do with posture (so to speak), the higher the heel incline the harder the muscles in your thighs and butt work, making for a tight ass and nicely shaped legs. Don’t stop there is more! Heels also work muscles in your abdomen and pelvis helping tone your tummy and strengthening those private muscle (Yes ladies wearing high heels not only gives you a nice ass and defines thigh muscles but they can physically help your sex life too!).
Of course, heels are not fashion’s magic wand; you cannot simply put your foot in the shoe and PRESTO –Change-o turn yourself into every man’s dream. You must have a special talent to wear high heels and achieve sexiness… OK, OK so talent maybe the wrong term to use, one can learn how to be sexy in heels and rarely does one naturally have the ability to put heels on for the first time and hold on to the ability to gracefully walk. Let’s be honest many of us don’t have the ability to gracefully walk barefoot. lol
It would be awesome if stilettos came with an instruction manual. There are many things I find myself thinking would be nicer if it came with instruction, while other things I find myself thinking, ‘Really???? It was necessary to kill a tree and waste time writing instructions???? Where is Darwin when you need him?” OK I know… Foxxxy! Focus… Wearing heels…
First, you have to find the right size shoe. If you are buying heels between 2-3.5 inches, choose a shoe that is a half size larger than your normal shoe size; heels 4-6 inches, choose a shoe one size larger than your normal shoe size and any size higher than 6.5, choose a shoe one and a half sizes larger than your normal shoe size. This is not a fail-safe formula but a good guideline to start. I would not recommend starting out with the highest heel if you have never worn stilettos before but I know that there are some that like to walk on the edge! But for the record, I warned you…
Now that you have the heels, wait until you get home and are alone to practice walking in them. Unless, of course you enjoy making friends and family or even total strangers laugh, in which case I suggest forget walking… go ahead put them on and sprint across the room… better yet sprint up and down your incline driveway and try a staircase right away!!!
When you are wearing your high heels, you want the shoe to fit snug, but not so much that your foot is sweaty, your toes are squished and you can’t wiggle them. Avoid wearing your heels without stockings. Wearing them bare will cause your feet to sweat and rub blisters, plus it is hard to get that smell out of the shoe and everytime you wear them your feet will smell too.
You also do not want the shoe to be too loose. Loose high heels can lead to serious pain and at the very least, damage to your ego. Loose high heel will force you to tense the muscles in your foot because you will crunch your toes to keep the shoes on while in stride. Loose heels are likely to trip you when your heel slips up and the heels drags across the ground or in a crack. Loose heels cause you to walk stiff which defeats the purpose of wearing them since you can’t be stiff and graceful at the same time.
Always practice on flat, solid floor to begin with; take 6-8 small, slow steps; then turn; continue in a figure eight pattern, increasing your pace until you are walking at a normal pace and feel comfortable in your heels.
When walking in heels, remember to pull your shoulders back. Sometimes this is not as easy as it sounds, especially if you are exhausted or new to walking in heels. If you do not pull your shoulders back, you will look like the hunchback of Notre Dame and may as well coin the quote, “Yezzzz, Master…”
As you step, focus your weight on the ball of your foot. Your heel should not ever touch the floor with weight on it but this does not mean walk on your toes. You will take smaller steps than normal but do not take micro steps. Keep your toes facing forward and knees together.
Sounds easy? Chest out, hips relaxed, knees together, slightly bent, small steps, ball of feet… Good! Now walk…
You will practice and practice and practice some more. Then you will stop and realize, “Hey wait a minute, I’m doing it!!!!”
Now, I may have forgotten to mention one little thing, nothing big… after walking in heels for the first time for even a short session, the balls of your feet will hurt like you don’t even know, and even worse the next day. In fact, the next day your butt, thighs, calves, ankles, feet and toes will ache. You may not even want to get out of bed, but it is important that you make yourself walk in the heels again the very next day and the next and the next, no matter how much it hurts. Before you know it, a week will have gone by and you won’t be aching anymore. We (women) go through torture more often than not to achieve sexy, you should be used to this by now! Of course, as with anything, though there are good results, wearing heels is not without its risks. Aside from the obvious potential injury, like breaking a bone or spraining your ankle; wearing heels can cause permanent changes in the muscle, tendon and joint structure in your ankles and legs, this can be avoided by alternating heel sizes instead of wearing the same size heel consistently. If you change heel height regularly there is a good chance that you avoid permanent damage! Doctors used to believe that high heels caused osteoporosis and other related medical conditions; however, science has disproved this myth. So wear those sexy heels… torture yourself as much as you want….
The manager did have a point, I could use the money I would have spent on the Sheriff’s Card to buy something to wear that was a little more appropriate for my new career. Besides, how much could a few outfits cost? There isn’t much fabric, just a few scraps of material with a string to keep them together, right? Now I just had to figure out how to ask daddy for a loan and then where to go for stripper gear.
First things first, ask daddy for a loan. So here goes… “Hi daddy, Guess what? I got a job!!!” After some congrats… “I was wondering… can I borrow some money… See Daddy’s Little Girl is going to be baring it all for any paying customer to see, but I need a sexy little something to encourage the customers to pay…”
“Sure baby, what was the name of this fine establishment? “ as I hear the gun safe open.
Ok that isn’t how it went at all… “…if I can borrow a little bit of money, I have to buy a uniform for my new job.”
Now, with a hundred dollars from daddy and the little money I scraped together for the Sheriff’s Card, I still needed to know where to buy stripper gear… Google to the rescue! Well back then I think it was Lycos, but you know what I mean…
My search only returned a few results, but that was ok with me! I hate shopping, so the less places I have to go to, the better. So off I went to shop with my friend (hmmmmmm, let’s call her Sandy). After driving around for over an hour and still not finding the it, so I marked off the first place on my list… Next… From the outside, this place looked so sleazy, I wouldn’t even buy something for my dog (and I strongly believe dogs are a waste of fur), let alone buy something for myself, so Sandy and I didn’t even bother getting out of my car… Reviewing my list, I didn’t even bother to go to the next few but the last one was right around the corner from my apartment, so I figured we should give it a shot. Again, I can’t say the actual name of the place but Naked Necessities would be synonymous with the real name of this “boutique.”
We pulled into the parking lot and parked. Not too bad, so here goes nothing. We walked in and the place was a ghost town. No customers and no cashiers. I jumped when I heard a voice call out from what I assumed was a dressing room area, ‘be with you in just a second,’ followed by muffled voices. Sandy and I started looking around. “Ummm I wonder how you put this on?” I asked Sandy. “Or where exactly this goes?” We giggled until we saw the prices.
Sandy held up, what I thought could easily pass as an eye patch for the pirate’s costume and mouthed to me ‘T-W-E-N-T-Y E-I-G-H-T D-O-L-L-A-R-S!’ I was speechless (which is a very rare thing for me) as it registered in my mind I would only be getting one outfit today, if I was lucky.
The maid costume was really cute and it was practical since you could wear the hair band, gloves and choker with the bra, panties and skirt for a complete costume; or just the skirt, panties and top or just the top and panties or just the gloves, choker and hair band… Ok you get the point. I really liked how the top made my boobs look great, and the best part of all was the bra had padding that could be replaced with bigger padding and I could put my tips in the pocket too. OK the padding did not impress me half as much as it did the obviously gay guy selling it, in fact I had to take all the padding out and stuff my boobs in it just to make my 32 DD’s fit in the top to begin with but hey, whatever floats your boat.
Sandy argued that a few other outfits were cute, but the maid outfit won overall. The grand total was $147. As I paid for my stuff I couldn’t help buy wonder how much the costume cost to make, five dollars???… there had to be less than five dollars worth of material…. Sheesh!
Ok on to my next dilemma, Sherriff’s Card… How was I going to get money to get a Sherriff’s Card, the last one I got was $200 +. I can’t afford… Oh, wait the last one I got hasn’t expired yet!!! Maybe I can use that one…
“Wait, did you say Child Care?” was exactly what the manager said when I asked if I could use the card I already had. “They fingerprinted you for this card?” I was in complete awe after this question… Ummm hello, CHILDCARE, of course they fingerprinted me, in addition to running a complete background check on both my financial and criminal history, you retard! The manager acted as if stripping required way more precautions than caring for someone’s child.
“When does it expire?” It was like I could hear the gears turning in his head. “Ok that is just a few month away. Until you get the proper card, if anyone asks, you will be renewing it soon for the correct one but we didn’t see the point in wasting money changing it since it expired soon.” Sure, dude, whatever helps you sleep at night. Mr. helpful manager was even nice enough to suggest I use the time and money I save to shop for stripper gear!
After hanging up, I couldn’t help myself from laughing out loud, literally. Really, what’s going to happen? Stripper police going to arrest me and throw me in jail for life because I have the wrong card type?? Hello, I think they would be too busy investigating my new place of employment and what really happens behind those curtains. You know the ones, the privacy curtains for the “PRIVATE DANCES” where there is hardly space, between the couch and the curtain, to stand. OMG! I was going to have to find out what goes on behind the curtains at some point. **Cringe!**
Oh well, I’ll deal with that when the time comes… On to the next mission for now… Stripper Gear…
How hard can this be??? <<<<<<Famous last words….
So we left off at the manager asking me what I planned to audition in…
The manager walked me to the dressing room, which was located through the back, outside in a trailer. He introduced me to one of the three girls working and asked her to explain things to me since I had never done this before. Eagerly the girl agreed and dove right into everything faster than I could keep up.
Finally, she asked me if I would like to borrow an outfit for my audition. I was trying to take it all in! What had I gotten myself into? And hell no I am not wearing your used underwear for… wait what was I doing again? Before I knew it, I was in my bra and panties standing in front of a jukebox trying to figure out what the hell I was going to take my clothes off to. I chose two songs and put the two-dollar bill the manager gave me in the machine. Now everything after this was like a cut scene in slow motion and I remember it like this…
***Cue Aerosmith, ‘Dream On’*** Barefoot, I climbed the stairs to the small stage. Luckily, the lights blinded me and I couldn’t see t the audience (which only consisted of the manager, two of the girls on shift and the third giving a private dance to the only customer in the place behind a curtain). I felt a little light headed and wished I had taken the drink when the manager offered earlier. I thought for a second I might faint and fall off the stage… ‘wait can I sue if I get injured?’ FOCUS!
I always wondered what the pole was for, now I knew and was thankful for helping me keep from collapsing. My brain tried to recall every scene I could remember from any movie I had seen with bedroom dancing (which did not amount to much).
***End of song, cue Tom Petty, ‘Mary Jane’s Last Dance’ (the only two songs I recognized on the jukebox)
Top is off (how’d that happen?)… While I continued rolling around on the floor, the manager walked up to the stage, laid two $2 on the stage and mouthed bottoms off now. And so it was. I was feeling very naked, then my brain came to speed, I was naked!!! The manager approached the stage again, this time no tip and mouthed “see me at the bar after you’re dressed” then he was gone. The song seemed to take twenty minutes to finish, then I was dressed and at the bar before I knew it.
I wondered if I was really that horrible… I wasn’t very impressed by the other girls which I only got a glimpse or two of. I thought I did at least as good as they were doing.
“See you on Thursday…” the manager shouted across the bar, but I must have looked puzzled because after a second he added… “I would have you work tomorrow but you need to get a sheriff’s card first and you need sign a contract. Club opens at noon, don’t be late and I will waive the stage fee.”
I stared at him a second longer before he continued… “Since this is your first time, I will let you get by wearing bra and panties but please make sure they match… even better if you have a bikini but we prefer something a little more professional.” (Yeah because this is such a busy, high-class place, right?) I nodded my head, still dazed a little. “One week… then I expect you to have a variety of nice costumes…” (Again, yeah since this is a busy, classy place that I am going to make thousands in. And probably all in two dollar bills right?).
Well at least I have a job…. Oh shit, how am I going to explain this to my husband? I didn’t know how he was going to feel about me taking my clothes off for total strangers in exchange for $2. Couldn’t worry about that now, I was employed and if my husband had a problem with my new line of work, well he could get a job…. Ha! With that logic he would be more than thrilled I was taking my clothes off for cash!
So how did I get the idea to be a stripper? Well, funny story… I was a ‘normal’ person, working a ‘normal’ job in customer service. Normally, I would blame the idiot customers for stressing me out. However, in this case the customers were supposed to be idiots because they were senile… The stress came from fixing problems and even more so not being able to fix the problems other employees created.
Funny thing about stress, sometimes you don’t even realize how stressed you are until you come to a breaking point. Then when you realize how stressed you’ve become, if you do not know how to deal with it, you are f*!?#&. I let stress for several months build up and since at the time I did not understand what to do with it, I wound up at the ER with severe chest pain and an order not to return to work until they could figure out what was wrong with me. Feeling better the next day, I figured no one could stop me from returning to work… Ha!!! I was sent home immediately and told not to come back without a medical release.
Let’s review, shall we? My doctor refused to release me back to work and since my husband was a loser and I had an infant who needed food regardless of my employment status, I had to review all my options. But what were my options?
First, I tried arguing with the doctor…I distinctly remember thinking “no income is going to be healthy?” when my doctor refused to let me go back to work and expressed his concerns about stress contributing to a possibly heart attack. Did he think I wouldn’t stress if I couldn’t pay my bills? Or maybe he thought he could write a doctor’s note for my bills. Needless to say, arguing with the doctor did not work..
OK… so I couldn’t return to the job I was currently employed at without a release…
Option two: I will just find a new job. Now I do not know if you are aware of how things work when a doctor will not release you back work, but apparently when a doctor does not want you to work, it is worse than if the mafia puts a hit out on you… no one will even consider talking to you… and nothing spreads faster than the notification you are blacklisted! It’s like a universal tattoo on your forehead that reads “do not hire if you know what is good for you, we know where your family is.” I actually considered changing my identity, but didn’t think it would do any good unless I went into witness protection. Even then, I think somehow employers would know the doctor hadn’t released me back to work. FAIL!
Option three: Leach off my family. With help from my Mom I made it a months with no work. How long could I expect my mom to pay the bills for me? Next…
Last option (kinda): Then it occurred to me one day while at a friend’s; I could strip! OK so maybe at first I hadn’t named it stripping… in fact I hadn’t really named it at all.
As I said, I was at my friend’s house (we will call him ‘Bob’). Bob is an independent contractor for media events (he does the audio/video ‘stuff’ for events like sports etc.). Bob always babbles about his job and uses all this technical jargon while I sit there showing utter and obvious disinterest and boredom, except this time Bob said something that caught my attention. He was explaining that he did not have to worry about child support withholdings (yep real winner, however in Bob’s defense he was avoiding child support because the kids were grown and not raised by the mom, who was trying to collect the support. At least this is Bob’s claim and does not necessarily reflect my views on the subject.) because he was an independent contractor, his own boss.
I realized if I were an independent contractor there would be no liability to the ‘employer’ so the chances of a background check would decreased and I could possibly avoid the red flag. And really, what it boiled down to was employers didn’t want to be responsible should something happen to me while on company time…
So now, I just had to figure out what I could do as an independent contractor. Bob (so helpful as he is) suggested he take me out on a job with him. Don’t get me wrong, Bob is one of my few long term friends, I love him death BUT (this is a big but) I do not take orders well authority figures to begin with, and having Bob bark orders at me while I am trying to learn something new, would not be good for anyone’s health, especially Bob’s.
Anyway, his job requires carrying huge spools of wiring and sometimes lifting and carrying large bulking items. At 4 foot 11 inches and 95 pounds soaking wet; I could not see this as a possibility… Oh yeah… Hello, remember the whole doctor’s concern and heart attack issues?
I started searching the ‘services wanted’ section of the classifieds and boy was I surprised at some of the ‘services’ people wanted. But wait! An ad caught my eye… “cash daily, make your own hours and no experience required…”want an interview? Call 702-###-####.” Who wouldn’t??? I got an interview immediately and was so excited I didn’t even ask what the exactly the position was.
I drove into the parking lot and cringed.
I could only guess what the position was. The place would be less obvious if the name was “I AM A STRIP CLUB;” however I was young, dumb and still clueless about what I was about to get myself into. As I made my way to the entrance I thought to myself… “this looks like a whorehouse”…
Walking through the door, I stood there with my mouth gaping and eyes squinting as I tried to see through the darkness. When my eyes finally adjusted, I wished they hadn’t… I was standing in what appeared to be a bar with a stage and pole that couldn’t have been bigger than four feet all around. There was hardly walking room to get to the barstools. Music from what sounded like a boom box poured down the stairs to my immediate right. A startling crash from upstairs somewhere made me jump. Just as I was about to turn and run back out the door, the manager came out from the behind the bar, offered me a seat at the bar, asked if I would like a drink while he took care of something and in the same sentence told me to have my ID ready when he returned.
Hmmm… I wasn’t even 21 years old and looked more like 16, a drink? Shouldn’t he have asked for my ID before offering a drink? Good thing I didn’t want a drink, since he didn’t even wait for me to answer before opening the cash register, grabbing a wad of cash out and disappearing up the stairs. As he passed me, to my surprise, every bill he had in his fist were two-dollar bills. I had seen a two dollar bill all of about three times in my life and here, the manager had to have more than fifty dollars’ worth of them in his hand and it looked like the entire register was full of them.
Several minutes later the manager returned. After copying my ID he asked if I’d like a drink, then if I knew the details for the open position. I must have had a horrified look on my face but just shook my head no. After explaining the details he asked if this was the first time I had danced. Naïve…. “Yes, I was in ballet for years from the age of three, then tap for a few years too…” the manager stared at me with a blank look on his face, then shook it off and asked if I had brought anything to audition in… No…
Let’s take a second to review again… Here I am about to audition to be a stripper… When I was offered the interview I had no idea I would be dancing much less taking my clothes off… already self-conscience of my body and having low self-esteem, I was about to get naked in front of total strangers, some of which (in my mind) had perfect bodies and tons of experience… I had never done anything even close to this before, had no idea what to do or how to do it… and why?????? Oh yeah… that’s right… all because my doctor wouldn’t release me back to my ‘normal’ job!!!
It wasn’t like I woke up one day and said to myself, “I know what I want to be when I grow up! A stripper…” Of course, no one held a gun to my head either… Actually, the last thing I ever imagined myself doing was stripping. Growing up, I had always been self-conscience about my body, which may or may not have been the result of my mother constantly reminding me that “… being fat is in your [my] genes…”
If low self-esteem was not enough to discourage choosing a career that requires getting naked in front of complete strangers, my winning personality would be. I wouldn’t say I am a mean person; exactly… however telling someone what they want to hear is not one of my strong qualities… Ok maybe I was a little mean back then, but then too, even now, there is no tactful way to tell someone they’re an idiot. This doesn’t make me a bad person, just a horrible candidate for any position that requires interaction with idiots, and boy, there are a lot of those positions in the job banks.
So what made me decide to audition for a job stripping? I could lie to you and say what most strippers will say… I was working my way through college… Nope, sorry can’t blame college as the guiding principle for Foxxxy’s career choice, only desperation for an income, which, in my opinion is the real reason for most strippers’ career choice… but hell I can’t limit that reasoning to stripping, that goes for any job. Is there any other reason someone chooses to work in any job?
To be continued…..
In the meantime visit Foxxxy Laydeeez and browse our selection of awesome adult products!
So why does a person choose to be a stripper? I guess each person has their own reasons, just like with any other profession or any other choice for that matter. Since this blog is in the beginning stages and I can’t think of anything else to write about, I will share with you my story. Please feel free to comment and debate even, I only ask to be respectful and refrain from insulting comments.
I love feedback though so please leave me comments! Especially, suggestions for other blog topics…..
Really??? Ok how many of you out there have had an issue with your man getting his panties in a bunch because you like your vibrator?
University of Indiana conducted a study that reveals only 37% of men are intimidated by their woman’s vibrator. Still why is there any percent at all? Some speculate that it is a lack of understanding, others are convinced that men see it as a distraction.
You have to wonder though; can they really be jealous of a plastic object that runs on AA batteries?
Well see, it is just that! The little plastic object can go on and on and on (until batteries need to be changed then in a matter of minutes continue on and on)… this little plastic object is ready and willing at a moment’s notice, it can’t get her pregnant, does a pretty good job getting the ‘job’ done and when she is done it can be put up and not heard from until the next time desire strikes.
Men need to realize (if they haven’t already) that while this vibrator seems to be a wonderful little tool, that is all it is….. a tool! It won’t cuddle with us, talk to us, take out the garbage or tell us how beautiful we are. Men should embrace this wonderful little tool, not only is it satisfying for the woman but with it, men don’t have to work as hard!
Trust me all you guys out there with a phobia of vibrators, give them a chance you may actually like it more that your woman does!!
Looking for a vibrator? Visit Foxxxy Laydeeez…
Alden, S. (2011, November 4). 7 Reasons Why Men Aren’t Intimidated By Vibrators. Retrieved from Tuscon Weekly: http://dating.tucsonweekly.com/date-report/2014-7-reasons-why-men-aren-t-intimidated-by-vibrators/#
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