Sunday, September 28, 2008

Predators

I feel like my personality has changed since I started working as a stripper.

It's not any better, or worse, just different. I try so hard to compartmentalize my feelings. Keeping my stripper self separate from my everyday self is easier in theory than in practice. I have to be a drastically different person at work, and that identity is starting to seep into my 'real' life.

I feel more predatory. More experienced. Older. I feel like any innocence I still had has been devoured by my work. By those hungry-eyed men who try to grope and lick me behind the curtains. By the strung out girls who offer me ever-lasting white powdery energy. By the messy dressing room stocked with body spray and makeup to keep us looking and smelling like every man's fantasy. Vacuous over-sexualized dolls, wobbling around in our 6-inch heels, our taught bodies barely covered by over-priced attention grabbing outfits.

I'm a predator, all the girls are. The customers are predators. The bouncers, managers, DJs and housemoms are predators. All of us engaged in a dance. All trying to out-smart and out-scheme one another. All plastered with fake smiles and fake pleasantries.

People my own age seem younger, unrelatable.

I don't know what to do with my life. College seems distant, I can't even imagine having a real job.

I feel trapped.

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