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In just four months, the unthinkable has happened -
I have reversed the roles in my life. I am in control; men take a backseat. I have learned how to say “no.” I’ve come to acknowledge my bodily autonomy and maintain the integrity of it. 

I have used a socially unacceptable method to surpass the torment invoked on my psyche. Somehow, the glitter and strobe lights and slippery poles have taught me to regain control of my body after countless men have claimed it as their own. No man can deny my femininity; no human can control my actions. I am my own and only my own. 

Despite my newfound comfortability with myself and my past, this world is still seedy and exhausting. We may not reside in the Times Square peepshows of the past, but the modern-day strip club is still equal parts exhilarating and terrifying. 
Hollywood’s portrayals of strip clubs don’t even come close to what you’ll endure past the velvet curtains: grabby hands, crumpled dollar bills tossed towards you like you’re a wastebasket - being rejected again, and again, and again, until you flee to the dressing room to be comforted by your fellow Pleaser-clad warriors. 

You’ll learn how to cope with being told “no” a thousand times a night. You will be called horrible things, and have rumors made up about you, both at work and in your daily life. You will struggle with the thought of coming out to family and friends - “mom, dad, I grind on strange men’s crotches for money. I swear it’s not that bad.”

People will ogle you from afar, whisper, laugh, and refuse to give you a single dollar. You will feel the burning intensity of a hundred eyes on you as you spread your legs in front of someone’s partner. Your hot pink bikini will cause a lover’s quarrel, and your cheeks will burn red-hot as you watch a girlfriend storm out the door. 

People will tell you you’re breaking up marriages. That you’re a tramp, a home-wrecker, you’re dirty, you’re unloveable, you’ll never be taken seriously. That taking control of your life and refusing to work for some old white man in an office is degrading. That punching into work at 7am is somehow different from signing in as “Candy” on a club’s night sheet at 2am. 

I can’t tell you how your experience will be. I can’t tell you how everyone else’s experiences are. This is the most unstable industry you could enter. It’s up to you to decide if that instability is worth it. 

In my four months, I’ve cried tears of joy counting mountains of bills. I’ve wept after spending eight hours half-naked being rejected by bald men, who didn’t deem me worthy enough of even a tip. 

Most importantly, the greatest lesson I’ve learned as a baby stripper, is that beyond the bleach-blond extensions and bejeweled butt plugs are human beings. 
Remember that. 

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"You talking with all, and I listening, thinking, oh, I want a lot to grow to know you."

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It’s taboo to admit that you’re lonely. You can make jokes about it, of course. You can tell people that you spend most of your time with Netflix or that you haven’t left the house today and you might not even go outside tomorrow. Ha ha, funny. But rarely do you ever tell people about the true depths of your loneliness, about how you feel more and more alienated from your friends each passing day and you’re not sure how to fix it. It seems like everyone is just better at living than you are.

…A part of you knew this was going to happen. Growing up, you just had this feeling that you wouldn’t transition well to adult life, that you’d fall right through the cracks. And look at you now. La di da, it’s happening.

Every day you vow to change some aspect of your life and every day you fail. At this point, you’re starting to question your own power as a human being. As of right now, your fears have you beat. They’re the ones that are holding your twenties hostage.

Stop thinking that everyone is having more sex than you, that everyone has more friends than you, that everyone out is having more fun than you. Not because it’s not true (it might be!) but because that kind of thinking leaves you frozen. You’ve already spent enough time feeling like you’re stuck, like you’re watching your life fall through you like a fast dissolve and you’re unable to hold on to anything.

I don’t know if you ever get better. I don’t know if a person can just wake up one day and decide to be an active participant in their life. I’d like to think so. I’d like to think that people get better each and every day but that’s not really true. People get worse and it’s their stories that end up getting forgotten because we can’t stand an unhappy ending. The sick have to get better. Our normalcy depends upon it.

You have to value yourself. You have to want great things for your life. This sort of shit doesn’t happen overnight but it can and will happen if you want it.

Do you want it bad enough? Does the fear of being filled with regret in your thirties trump your fear of living today? We shall see.”

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