Palms are sweaty, knees week, arms are heavy… ok but seriously. No, this isn’t the beginning of a bad joke, this was reality. The day I knew would eventually come, had. And it didn’t go as expected.
I sat in the dressing room, anxious, awaiting their arrival. What do I wear? I have nothing but thongs and bras and even tinier thongs. God, why don’t I own any robes? Wait. They’ve seen me in a bathing suit. That’s kind of the same thing right? What about when I have to take my top off on stage? Will my tits sear a scar in the back of their minds? Will my boyfriend harbor resentment towards me for this even after the whole group came to the club on their own accord? These were just a few questions swirling into my head and out the end of my cigarette while I waited. And then they arrived.
I saw all their familiar faces, suddenly feeling more naked than usual. I flashed my regular dimpled smile, acting unbothered to be in my underwear while they hangout in street clothes. I accidentally meet a few of their curious stares then quickly look away. Are they judging me? Are they thinking “how can he let her do this?” Maybe I can pretend they’re not here. BUT THEY ARE!!! Breathe Christyna… umm… Whitney… ugh!
Christyna is a funny semi-depressed sarcastic under-achieving insecure asshole. Whitney is a happy-go-lucky, bright young woman with flawless makeup and irresistible girl next door sex appeal. Who I am at work is not who I am in real life. At work I strap on a perma-smile and bubbly personality along with my 6 inch heels. I come through the barrier between locker room and club like an actor from behind a curtain. I’m here for your viewing pleasure, to listen to your incessant rambling, and to provide intimacy or to fulfill whatever sick fantasy you have about a woman half your age. To be able to be that naked and that sexual for a job you must become someone else to uphold any sort of normalcy in your regular life. I do it well. But when someone you know personally steps into the club it becomes difficult to separate your personal life from your work life. Needless to say, it happens often and I always survive (and have a blast.)
After everyone had settled in and I had calmed down I was more comfortable and hopefully they were less weirded out. After all, I wasn’t the only girl walking around nearly naked. What in my paranoid mind made me think they’d only be looking at me? I’m used to partying, standing around in groups and playing pool being the only one in my underwear; it doesn’t phase me. My friends were no different than anyone else coming into the club to have a good time. So that is what we did.
I was overwhelmed with the support (and tips) I received from my boyfriend and his friends. They treated me like the same person they’ve known all along outside the club and I shouldn’t have been so surprised, seeing as they’ve been very cool about me being a stripper from the beginning. I slept good last night. I woke up head higher this morning. Life is so much easier when you can just be yourself and be accepted for it.
Ultimately I want everyone that comes into the club to have a great time that they’ll always remember (if their alcohol consumption allows it of course.) I’m here to entertain as well as educate. The reason I “came out” as a stripper is to bring light to what goes on in the club and to who we women are. We’re normal people with friends and family, sometimes boyfriends, girlfriends, husbands and kids. The risk I took in making my normal life as well as my dating life exponentially harder by coming out was not nearly as great as the risk of letting my story go untold. I’ve been given a unique opportunity to give people a look inside an underworld, the seedy part of the human experience, the good and bad of working in the sex industry. I hope to continue to write about my experiences and I hope you all enjoy reading.