The night started early with a stag party from Liverpool coming in, the stag went for a dance with me straight away but only a single, turns out the rest of them were either tight, rude or both and kept haggling to get a dance for £5… AS IF.

Then later on quite a few guys came in, some from the races, some for stags again but we had a recurring problem till around 2am that they didn’t want to part with money and the only time the odd few did is on two-for-ones. (For those of you not working in a Rhino’s that is a dance offer that when Austin Powers plays we all sell the following two dances for £20 instead of just the one dance)

Then I see this guy, a little bit chubby, friendly-faced and lonely looking so I sit and talk to him for a while; I mean, if I work hard enough here I’m sure to get a £60 VIP aren’t I? ALAS,I WAS WRONG. Wrong, wrong, wrong.I spend nearly an hour with this guy who seems genuinely interested in a dance for him to turn around and say he’s not sure because he knows the only reason I’m talking to him is that I want his money…No fucking shit Sherlock, you’re in a goddamned strip club.So he goes to pee and Misha, (one of the dancers who’s worked a year or two, maybe even more) comes over to see how I am and what’s happening. I explain the situation and she tells me ‘Tell him that management have seen that you haven’t danced in a while and that if you don’t get some money for your time here you’ll be in the shit’.

I take the advice.

I tell him that in my own words and he says, alright let’s go for ONE dance but when we get into the booth (having already been marked down for this dance) he realises he’s only got £15 so we go to get a chip (1 chip = 1 dance and is £24 paid by card), the machine breaks and he walks off leaving me in the freezing cold reception, with not money because he can’t be arsed to wait five mins for the new machine to come downstairs.Now I’m pissed off.

He sees me upstairs and asks if he can get anything for £10 or £15, I tell him he can’t and he leaves… No tip, no dance not even a fucking apology.

More men come in.

I’m in a foul mood now but I smile and look as attractive as possible and get a dance to get myself back in my game. Next I talk to a man in a suit who’s won money on the races; him and his friend stood and told me and the girls around us how beautiful I am so I say ‘Well why don’t you take me for a dance then?’, with a cheeky grin.

He grabs my hand, tells me I’mtoo beautifulto do this job and tries to dance with me out on the floor infront of everyone.This is where I become a badarse.I tell him I don’t have time to fuck around and I need and want to go earn money but when ever I walk away he grabs me and pulls me back to talk to him to the point where I push his discreetly backwards and say ‘Look. I don’t have time for this, either stop fucking around and take me for a dance or I’m going elsewhere since my time is valuble’…He still won’t listen… ‘That is it, I don’t want to spend my time messing around with some middle-aged guy who is clearly too cheap to go for a dance and comes up with shite excuses, I don’t want drinks, I don’t want dinner and no, I don’t want a date ‘mate’ I have a 6foot 4 boyfriend waiting for me at home and funnily enough you’re much too short for me’, and I walk away, head held high and realise that acting like this gets me more respect and more dances.

I continue to behave as though I’m the best thing to walk the planet and end up getting many more dances than I would have otherwise, one guy tried to get my number for a single dance, I told him, go for a £60 VIP and I’ll give you it,of course the number was fake, poor guy, he was getting married anyway which his friends told me since he failed to mention it… Great husband material right there.

My final customer was great, he was falling asleep and the doormen wake them up and throw them out when this happens; so I snuck up behind him and yelled ‘BOO’then acted like an awesome, full of myself, sexy-arse dancer and ended up with a £60 VIP and another couple of dances out of him.

So hopefully my awesomeness will hold up and I’ll finaly start being pushy enough.

(Source: eatinaintcheatin)

(Source: eatinaintcheatin)

Okay, so not only is what we do immoral, and an overall poor life choice, but now we can’t even claim responsibility for making that choice in the first place? I’m a stripper because my dad fucked up somewhere along the way? So, wait— is it still considered a poor choice if the only reason we made it was because of our daddy issues? Do I still have to deal with all of your bigoted bullshit if it’s no longer my fault?  If that’s what we’re going with, can that just excuse me from all of your crap? I mean fuck, in that case— what else can I blame on my parents? Uhm, if I tell you I’m only a feminist cause my mom raised me that way will you still berate me for being an “angry activist”? 

FUCK OFF.

(via yourlastconfession)

This retort is just perfect. I would however like to say that my family know about my job, my dad found out recently and he tried his damnedest when I was younger to be the best dad he could be and to me he was. He made sure I was well educated, took me on awesome trips, protected me, made sure I knew I was loved and most of all did the little things that parents are supposed to do and more to make my childhood a good one. He has so graciously accepted my chosen job and instead of being a bigoted douche bag he has ensured I know that he is still so very proud of me and that I’m still his little girl and that he’s there to protect me no matter what.

Surely that makes him a better father than any of those who would condemn, disown or tell their daughters how disappointed or angered they are at them?

(via hereisanothersecret)

Since my dad is actually really intelligent and puts things together much quicker than I thought, he knows I’m a stripper. Furthermore my entire family now knows as it came out at a family BBQ and with my boyfriend’s support and my daddy telling me that I’ll always be his little girl and he’ll always be proud of me, I feel as though a weight has been lifted… Only to have another replace it.

Now one of my cousins, joke or not, feels it is okay to use me against her father when they argue about how her life is going; she doesn’t have a job, she’d just finished uni and doesn’t know what to do from here at like 23 years old and intends to throw the fact that I’m a stripper out as a reason for her life being better. AT LEAST I HAVE A JOB. TWO IN FACT! WHILE I STILL STUDY AND MAKE PLANS TO FURTHER MY EDUCATION.

Secondly, one of my friends asked me what I do in a sly, ‘around town’ kind of way instead of just asking straight up and spent the whole conversation insinuating it is something inappropriate and to be ashamed of. That pissed me off but what pissed me off more is that the 30 something year old neighbor of my dad is the one who told her and her mother instead of using her common sense and keeping her gossip-y mouth shut. I just know that they will have be saying it in hushed tones, commenting on my dad’s parenting skills or how messed up my life is or how glad they are their kids aren’t like that. She should know better.

On the upside. My dad doesn’t mind, my mum doesn’t mind, my grandma doesn’t mind, my boyfriend and my best friends don’t mind and my manager gave me a high-five last week for being in the top 4 earners and reaching a personal best of 27 dances or so :D

(Source: eatinaintcheatin)

Had a huge bollocking at work because some stuck up woman at my other job heard me discuss with another member of staff my job as a stripper. Excuse me but firstly why the hell was she listening to a private converstion in the first place and secondly, why on earth was it needed to get so offended that my collegue was asking how my other job was going that you told my fucking manager?! I’m sorry but it really isn’t your business and if you choose to listen in on a conversation don’t fucking bitch about it afterwards. Sex work or not, I just cannot grasp the idea that someone is so far up their own arse that they complained that my store shouldn’t have strippers working for them.

(Source: eatinaintcheatin)

(Source: eatinaintcheatin)

Okay, so I HAVE to wear fake tan, I talked to the manager and he says that it’s not up to him and that I can’t just stop wearing it… If I get as much or more on Thursday and Saturday with it on as I did Monday then fine, I’ll keep on wearing it but if it doesn’t make a difference why should I look like everyone else?! It’s not fair that the one thing that made me stand out from all the other dancers has been taken away and I have to work so much harder to get across my ‘image’. I like rock music and dark clothes and heavy black make up and being pale… but without the pale it is just that much harder. I don’t really know what to do.

(Source: eatinaintcheatin)

I really need to get a grip on myself today. I keep telling myself that I’m getting better but I’m not. It just gets easier for a week or so then hits 5 times as hard. At least being in the club and earning good money gives me more confidence in myself, I’m not afraid to be who I am there and the amount of people who tell me I’m such a lovely person is always nice but not really a big help. The worst is when I start passing my feelings on to memories, I start to get down and then I look at old photographs and watch old videos to find myself in tears because of how much I miss it all knowing full well that if I had the oppertunity to go back to that and leave behind what I have now I’ll feel exactly the same sadness and loss for this situation. I can’t win. I don’t know how to be happy because either way I choose I’m going to end up missing the opposite and I just end up sat alone and miserable wishing that someone was here to distract me from my head. The most depressing thing of all is I’ve had to write this here because I can’t even be completely honest on my other blog anymore since too many people see it and I would upset them if nothing else.

(Source: eatinaintcheatin)

(Source: eatinaintcheatin)

Personally I disagree… As I discussed with my boyfriend on our first date while sat in Starbucks (chuff knows how he still wanted me after this) I think Satan would be into smooth Jazz. I think he’d wear like a zoot suit or something like that and look very suarve.

(Source: daintycorpse, via sex)

(Source: eatinaintcheatin)

(Source: eatinaintcheatin)

Aching like fuck from Saturday’s pole lesson, I can’t move very well. Still can’t wait for work tonight though! I watched Striptease yesterday but it was completely useless in terms of my uni work. My kitty has gone to the vets this morning to be spayed, I hope she’s okay, it’s so weird without her here. I’m not going to uni today so I can finish my work for Wednesday so that might get me into trouble but I’m past caring tbh. Oh yeah! My grandma (although I haven’t told her) wouldn’t care if I were a stripper or even  a prostitute apparently! I was telling her about our project on Sex work at university and she was talking about films with prostitution in and she just said, ‘If you ever get into that work, don’t do it in this town, don’t tell anyone you know and be safe’. I was literally gob-smacked, apparently her and my grandfather have supported the legalisation of brothels in England for years because they believe it would be safer for the girls, so maybe it won’t be too bad if she ever did find out I was stripping for a living.

(Source: eatinaintcheatin)