I'm not going to do one of those dumb introductory posts everyone always puts up. You wanna know about me? Look at that cool little thing titled "ABOUT ME." That's what it's there for.
As for this blog, well, it's not for you, vague Internet audience. This is for me. I've gotta get things out somehow, and Poppy says cuts and bandages put off the patrons.
I'm what people politely call an "exotic dancer." If that isn't clear enough for your virgin minds, I'm a fucking stripper. And I'm a damn good stripper too. In one night I can make enough to buy a brand new computer, and that's after the house fee and tips for the bar tender, DJ, and bouncers.
I fucking love my job, but I also hate my job. The shit I have to deal with and see. I may be taking my clothes off for your viewing pleasure, but that doesn't mean you have the right to touch me. It's like an art gallery that you tip: Look, don't touch. Even the waitresses get harassed daily. Girls that aren't even one of us. I see them get propositioned and harassed every fucking day and it makes me sick. It's almost a surprise to see a patron who's actually respectful. Who takes no for an answer and keeps their filthy paws to themselves.
To take someone's control like that, just touching and grabbing without question, it's disgusting.
