I Am Afraid of Money

What makes someone start stripping? Maybe a fascination, a challenge, a controlling boyfriend, a way to fund a drug habit. Or maybe you have $20 left and an empty gas tank.

Of course, my reason is that last sentence.

Okay, I had more than $20

Not much more though. See, I have rules for myself. Money in savings cannot come out under any circumstances. My checking account is fluid, and credit card is to barely be touched. Strict rules, because I am afraid of money. I am scared of not having enough, of being drowned in debt so deep and stifling that the thought of beginning to pay it off just- STOP!

Not to blame everything on my childhood, but perhaps some clarity. We always had enough money, but that’s just it. Never more than enough, and even when we didn’t have enough my parents made sure to make it seem as though there was plenty. As I grew older I understood more, why we could only get one box of cereal a week, generic brand of course. Why my mother weighed every single piece of produce to the ounce, and why I ate so many god damn eggs and rice for dinner. Why my mother taught me to sew, so I can alter the hand-me-downs and feel better about my clothes at school. My first job was at a restaurant as a waitress and I worked my ass off. I saved that cold hard cash and wouldn’t let a penny out-like some sort of teenage dragon, hoarding my earnings until I moved across the state for college.

Suddenly I had to pay rent, car insurance, groceries, textbooks, fun money, toiletries, everything! No job and I better not reach into that savings account. My mother had to work the day I moved, so I loaded up my car and did the thing myself. After paying first month’s bills I had $20 and an almost empty gas tank. So I drove my happy ass to the gas station then the club.

I did some googling before this. “How to start stripping, how to pole dance, strip clubs near me”. I had planned on applying for waitress jobs, but I needed money NOW. The only thing I knew that gave instant cash was robbery, drugs or stripping. I chose the best option. Now, some may say to just use your credit card until that first paycheck from a normal job. Let’s not forget my rules, though. Minimal credit card usage. Beware the debt and interest!

In my mind it was very straightforward. I need money and this is how I get it. I was dating a guy at the time, had plenty of friends, about to start classes. Home life sucked but that story will naturally unfold. So I was not manipulated in any way- and girls, if a man is taking your money LEAVE. If a boyfriend is the reason you cannot get out of dancing, LEAVE. I have taken breaks from dancing because I have the financial freedom to do so. Everyone deserves the right to WALK the FUCK away.

Titties. That’s the first thing I see when I walk in. Big ole silicon knockers dancing around on stage. God it’s dark in here, when will my eyes adjust? I see a man- the bouncer, right. “Can I fill out an application?” He points to the other side of the club and grunts out “DJ is day manager. Talk to him”. Shit shit shit okay just walk over no worries. I find the booth. A small Indian man looks at me and says, “turn around. Give a spin”. I comply. “You’re definitely hot enough. Great body. Wanna work tonight?” He hands me an application. “Um, I can.” “Do you have shoes? No? Maybe a girl will lend you some”. He pulls back a curtain and yells out for some shoes. No extras.

(Now I know there were probably plenty extras but strippers are not ones to just lend their shoes. They’ll sell you their shoes)

“Actually, maybe I can just start tomorrow?” “Sure, day or night?” he asks. “I don’t know, what do you think?” I ask. “Well” he starts, “This club isn’t good for white girls at night. It becomes a much darker crowd, if you know what I mean. I suggest you stick to days, you’re cute and have that innocent look. Old guys love that”. Okay, ew.

The Rules

“Go get some clothes and shoes. Pleasers, those are the shoes you want. And the rules! Lap dances are $20 given on the couches. No back room here because we had some *problems. You pay $20 to the DJ, $25 to the house, and $5 to each bouncer. Dance for three songs on stage, you keep all the stage money. During dances keep one foot on the floor and no straddling. Don’t give your number to a customer- that could be solicitation and then you have a prostitution charge. Keep your panties on all the time, and you’re supposed to cover your nipples but if cops come in we’ll let you girls know. Questions?” “Um, no, but how do I dance?” He starts laughing. “Watch some girls and do what they do. You’re hot so it doesn’t matter”.

*Problems = fucking in the back room. Everyone loves a good hooker.

So I stick around for probably an hour and observe. Stage dancing will take some courage. Lap dances, well I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it. Now what the hell kind of clothes am I supposed to buy?