Bwahahaha! Let's hope the person who processes this gets a chuckle. :D

A day in the life of this stripper.

This is often a typical day when I'm working during the week. I usually work only one night while I have my daughter with me so I don't miss out on too much time with her.

7:30am - Wake to get my little girl ready for school.

8:30am - Leave for school. Drop her off to her classroom.

9:30am - Get my acrylic nails back-filled. Maybe do a quick grocery shop and buy garbage food because I didn't eat breakfast and I'm shopping on an empty stomach.

10:30am - Return home with unhealthy food and put it away. Shower and exfoliate to remove the old fake tan that is beginning to look crappy and to prepare my skin for reapplication of a fresh fake tan.

11:00am - Put pore strips on my face and apply my fake tan while the pore strips dry.

11:15am - Remove pore strips from my face. Lay a towel on the couch or bed ready to sit or lie around naked while my fake tan dries. Without the towel, the tan can transfer to and stain whatever my body touches. Prepare bottles of nail polish to paint my nails.

11:30am - Sit naked in front of the fan to help the tan dry and avoid sweating it off in the summer heat while it sets, then begin painting my nails. Apply base coat of clear nail polish and try to find something to do for at least half an hour (while the base coat dries properly) that doesn't involve using my hands too much. Often, I'll browse on the Internet while it's drying as I can do so without having to use my hands all that much. As long as I don't mind typing ridiculously slowly, I can even have a conversation online.

12:00pm - Apply first coat of bright red nail polish. Curse when I stuff up and get nail polish on the edge of my finger. The bright red tends to stain skin and is very difficult to remove. Curse some more when I accidentally touch one of my freshly painted nails with a finger and end up with fingerprints on it. Try to touch up said stuffed up fingernail. Curse once more when I realise that I'm hungry and probably should have prepared food /before/ I started doing my nails.

12:15pm - Sit impatiently, listening to my stomach growl.

12:30pm - Make toast in an extremely funny-looking manner since that's about the easiest thing to prepare and eat while attempting to not touch anything. Curse at making an indent in the still soft, supposedly 50 second nail polish that /actually/ takes the better part of a day to dry hard enough to enable me to function as a real human being again. Eat toast.

1:00pm - Apply second coat of bright red nail polish. Curse when I realise that I need to go to the toilet and I probably should have done so /before/ I applied the second coat of polish. Squirm uncomfortably for half an hour.

1:30pm - Go to the loo and breathe a sigh of relief. Curse when I bump a nail on the cold water tap and make another mark in stupid 'fast drying' nail polish. Sit/lie around for a bit longer, playing online and typing stupidly slowly.

2:00pm - Apply top coat of clear nail polish. Be quietly pleased that it mostly hides the bumps and marks made previously. Look ridiculous while trying to scratch itchy upper thigh with big toe. Get sore hands from holding iPhone in an uncomfortable position for so long. Change hand position and curse when I make a mark in the previously mirror-smooth top coat after being silly enough to change hand position.

2:30pm - Get dressed and leave to pick up my daughter from school. Try to drive while holding the steering wheel with only the thumb and forefinger of each hand. Silently praise the inventor of power steering.

3:00pm - Return home and hang out with my darling girl for a while. Make her an afternoon snack.

4:00pm - Try to nap on the couch. Drift in and out of sleep for about an hour as my daughter sings to herself while she plays a game despite me asking her nicely to please sing a little more quietly.

5:00pm - Wake up and curse (under my breath this time since my daughter is nearby) that I now have the weave of the couch fabric imprinted in the polish on at least two fingernails. Shower, washing off the excess fake tan, then shave my legs and underarms.

5:30pm - Eat a quick afternoon snack for myself and pack some of last night's left over dinner into a microwaveable container to take with me for dinner at work when I take a break sometime between midnight and 2:00am.

6:00pm - Brief the babysitter on dinner, homework, and tomorrow's lunch preparation for my daughter. Kiss my beautiful little girl goodbye. Wish that I could stay at home and hang out with her instead. Leave for work.

6:30pm to 8:00pm - Arrive at work. Put on my face and get ready.

8:00pm to 3:00am - Get naked as many times as possible.

3:00am - Get dressed back into my street clothes and head home.

3:30am - Arrive home. Snuggle with my sleeping little girl for a precious few minutes. Wind down for a short while. Remove my makeup.

4:00am - Get into bed. Sleep.

7:30am - Wake to get my little girl ready for school. Be ever-so-happy that I have a job that pays well enough so that I only have to work a few nights a week and can usually spend the rest of the week with the most beautiful little girl in the world.

Stripping is the first job I've had that I can truly say I love. Unlike the other many and varied jobs I've had, there are very few aspects of being a stripper that I dislike.

I /adore/ being the centre of attention. I revel in it. I love looking gorgeous and having guys stare at me, knowing they're wishing they could do all sorts of things to me, but feeling safe in the fact that within the confines of my club they're only allowed to do those things if I choose to let them.

Sure, there's the occasional sleazy guy, but mostly, I encounter those with enough social graces to at least be polite. And if they're not, I simply walk away.

I'm a very social person, and within the scope of being a stripper, I get to chat to all sorts of lovely people. I can dance when I want to and drink when I want to. I can lean my elbows on a table with my cleavage showing and my bum sticking out, waggling it to a fun beat, simultaneously grabbing the attention of guys in front of me and behind me. I can show off my increasingly fit body and get guys to pay me to show even more of it.

I can latch onto a cute guy and drape myself all over him as much as I want, knowing that he's enjoying it as much as I am. I can sit across a guy's lap, play with his stubble and flirt outrageously, then take his hand and pull him towards the lap room where I will be paid to have my skin stroked and my body adored and drive him to distraction.

I'm learning more and more how to get what I want by using what I have. Each night I am there, I grow stronger and more physically agile. I grow more confident in my mind, my body, and my social skills. I'm learning how to make people do what I want, and make them happy that I convinced them to do so.

Not every single night is like this; I have the occasional crappy night at work, just like everyone has crappy days at their job. The crappy nights, however, are far and few between, and even if I don't make a lot of money, I usually enjoy the interaction I have with at least one of the people I talk to that night.

Even after a couple of nights away, I get excited on my way to work about the possibility of a great night. I've been doing this for 7 months now and the longer I do it, the more I enjoy it. I really do love my job and I'm going to revel in it for as long as I can.

The definition of sexual harrassment is surely very different at a strip club compared to a 'normal' workplace. While the business of a strip club is not selling actual sex (depending on how you define sex), it's pretty close to it, so it's impossible to have a sexless workplace. We flirt for a living, and often that flirting happens between the dancers as well as between the dancer and the customer. In fact, flirting between dancers is often used as a technique to get a customer to part with their money.

The smacking of arses happens on a regular basis. As does the touching of other girls' breasts. As does the stroking of bodies and the pressing together of breasts. You get the point. Much of this is a performance for the customer, but for me, I'll generally only touch a dancer whom I actually like if it means it's going to make us money. And I'll make reasons to touch a dancer who I /really/ like.

Sex talk in the change rooms is rampant. If no one mentions sex while we're all getting ready, it's a rare thing and we wonder what's going on with the general mood of the place.

If this culture was brought into a normal workplace, especially with how politically correct everything seems to be these days, there would be so many allegations of sexual harrassment it would tie up the courts to the end of the Earth.

The sexuality between workers at the club, however, is a different kind. I'm sure it still happens that someone may make someone else uncomfortable with their sexual advances, but in a club where the relationships are healthy and there's respect between workers, the flirting and the touching and the playing is fun. It's something that I actually enjoy.

In my club, at least so far, I've seen no lack of respect in the sexual play that happens. Perhaps our western society would be less sexually repressed if people were more free with each other—respectfully, of course. It's a freedom that I wish more people could enjoy.

My family have noticed how fit I'm looking lately. I really didn't know how to explain it to them. If I'd told them the real reason, I would have said it's because pole dancing several times a night, three or four times a week, while experiencing an adrenalin rush from getting your kit off in front of strangers is great for fitness.

I don't feel good about keeping my job a secret from my family, but I think my reasons are valid.

I'm pretty sure I've stated previously why I haven't told them. They're not the types to have gone to strip clubs (ever, or regularly), so they have only the possibly misguided or second hand opinions of others as to what goes on in a strip club and why people go. I'm not ashamed of what I do, but I'm dead certain they would be ashamed to tell friends about it if the topic of 'So what are your daughters up to these days?' came up. By giving them only limited facts about my job (and some of those facts a little, hm, creative), I'm saving them from feeling the need to lie to their friends about me.

If I trusted that they would be open-minded and listen to what it's /really/ like working there, and understand that it's nothing at all similar to what they think, I'd consider telling them. However, I don't believe that would be the case.

What I believe would happen is this: they'd be ashamed of what I've chosen to do, they'd feel terrible having to lie to their friends, my daughter's father might find out and then try to use it against me, my father and sisters would worry for my safety, my mother would be horrified that her daughter would do such a thing.

You see, I think that sometimes the truth can hurt.

My pole work is improving. I managed to do an inverted crucifix the other day! That's where you hang upside down off the pole (facing out from the pole) supporting all your weight with only your inner thighs. No hands.

I was so proud of myself that night. The only problem was that I hung there upside down for a few moments, blood rushing to my head, thinking, 'Shit! How do I get down?!'

I seem to be the slipperiest girl in the club, because I could only do that particularly tricky move on a night when my skin was hot and sort of tacky. I find that often I'm the only one complaining of not being able to grip the pole, while other girls are doing awesome tricks that require friction and grip. I know it's not anything that I'm wearing on my skin because I don't use moisturiser and I use the same tan as all of the others. It's so bad sometimes that I can barely even do basic spins without needing a death grip on the pole.

My current theory is that my skin is extra smooth (goosebumps aside) when I'm cold. On the rare occasions that it's not like Antarctica in the club, I have no problems with grip. I truly believe my core temperature has dropped since working there, and so I tend to feel the cold faster than the others. When some girls are sweating after finishing their set, I'm feeling only pleasantly warm after getting off stage.

Some of the pole tricks take a bit of getting used to. There's one called an inverted egg. Picture this: upside down, pole between the thighs, the rest of the legs to one side of the pole, curled up into a ball, entire body weight help up by just /one/ inner thigh right near the groin. I did that very successfully one night after a small amount of 'dutch courage', and for about three weeks, any other trick I did that came even close to touching that inner thigh made it sting so badly! The best I can do to describe the pain is like a bikini wax performed by an evil sadist.

Eventually your skin toughens a bit and the tricks that used to hurt start to feel more comfortable. I can't say the same for bruises, though. I counted 28 bruises on my legs today! Ha!

Strippers have a reputation (especially in Hollywood, it seems) for being powerless, but this is not my experience. I have help with this because of the controllers watching and making sure everyone behaves, but within that framework, I hold the power, and I hold it in a big way.

The other night, I took a guy for a lap dance and I completely had the balance of power. He was desperate to touch me in places that are out of bounds, and I fed that desire by letting him ever-so-near, but making sure he knew that the controller was watching. When I leaned in towards his face, I brushed my lips incredibly close to his mouth, to his ear, to his neck, so that it was driving him to distraction. I timed whispering sexy things into his ear just as the controller came up to say our time was up, and he extended for another half an hour.

I was enjoying his company as much as he was enjoying mine, so I was genuinely pleased that he extended. He was a really nice guy and I found him sexy, so teasing him and making him want more was easy for me on this occasion. (I've said in the past that I'm a terrible liar, so somehow I have to harness that same energy for those to whom I have no attraction.)

I love the power I can have on stage, too. I've been on the edge of the stage and literally made a guy's head and eyes move from side to side by moving my hips side to side in front of his field of vision. I can spot this state that they get into a mile away; generally, the older guys get a look on their face of intense concentration, while the younger, less experienced guys have a look of raw amazement, sometimes even complete with jaw dropped open. These are the times that I can't help but to laugh out loud at how simple men can be.

Don't get me wrong, though, I'm not laughing /at/ them. I'm laughing at the joy I get from seeing it and from the rush of being in control.

There are far too many horrible instances around the world of women having no control. Some women are born into places where they live without it for their whole lives. I intend to enjoy it, and I wish for other women who lack it, that they can have even just a small portion in their own lives of the control that I can have so easily.

I had another offer of marriage the other night. So that brings the count so far to a total of three, plus one to take me home to his wife.

Who knew that becoming a stripper would make me so happy?

I'm not just talking about the money. The money can be good, yes, (and that helps improve my quality of life in many ways, since money seems to make the world go around), but I'm speaking mostly of my general happiness.

Some people work their whole lives at jobs they hate, or, if they're lucky, they simply tolerate it, but after a night or two off, I actually look forward to going back to work. I adore the intelligent and caring girls I work with and I look forward to the cheeky banter in the dressing room as we all get prettied up.

I /love/ my job. I really do. Part of it, perhaps, is that I'm in control. When it comes to customers, if there's someone I don't like, I'm under no obligation to go for a dance with him, or even to talk to him. I've mentioned previously that most of the customers who come into the club are decent people; freaks and creeps are relatively few. I'm a social creature, and I enjoy chatting to people and asking them about their lives. I love having the opportunity to learn something new about life with every person I meet. In many other jobs I've had, interaction with customers has always had to be brief, but as a stripper, especially if a customer books me for a long time, I get to have some excellent conversations. It's true that not every conversation is deep and meaningful, but many of them are at least interesting.

For the most part, I'm in control of when I work, too. I'm free to choose which nights I work, so I work the nights that fit in best with me and my daughter. The time I spend with her is important to me, and being a stripper enables us to spend quality time together. I'm there for her when she needs me, and as a parent, I see that as one of the most important things I can do for her.

I enjoy the physical aspects of stripping. The pole dancing keeps me so fit and healthy. As with anything physical, it means I have to make sure I look after my body (warming up, eating right, sleeping well), but that gives even more benefit to my general well-being.

I have a specific happiness that's been missing from my life for too many years, and I'm surprised—but extremely pleased—that becoming a stripper has brought that back to me. To quote a fellow stripper (@MikatheStripper on Twitter), 'I hope strangers can see my private parts for a long, long time.'

Why would I want to be 'saved' from my life as a stripper? The general opinion by 'polite' society seems to be that stripping is a lowly job, or that a woman would eventually want to work her way out of doing it as a job; to get something better or more respectable. I don't need to be saved from this. I chose to do it of my own free will, with my eyes fully open, my mind totally aware, and with complete respect for myself. I find it rather odd that the few who feel that strippers need saving are customers in a strip club. Maybe they have a Superman complex.

Why would I choose to do something more 'respectable' that would earn far less than what I can earn as a stripper? Especially when I actually enjoy what I do. The occasional dickhead aside, I love being adored, complimented and sometimes almost worshipped at the club. When I first started, I thought I'd give it two years, but as I've settled into it, I've changed my mind: I now intend to do this for as long as possible.

On the other side of the coin from those who have the attitude that strippers need saving, I've been surprised by the seemingly automatic respect I've been afforded by those with minds that are more open. Friends have said how brave I am and how they admire me—for what is essentially getting my gear off for money. I can only guess that they say this because they wish they had that same level of confidence, even if they would never choose to do it themselves. I'm willing to be corrected by those who know me in my non-stripper life if I'm completely off track.

As I've become more involved with the relatively sizable Twitter community of those in the adult entertainment industry, I've discovered a vast number of men (and women) for which the best name I can give is 'Stripper Lovers'. Many of these people seem to have a better understanding than most about what we do. Some are involved in the sex industry as either owners or managers of clubs, or even as the partners of those in the industry. Some just seem to be people who like and respect confident women.

It may be because of the type of people I choose to surround myself with (and because I've chosen carefully whom I tell the complete truth about my job), but over all, the reaction from friends and acquaintances to what I do has been overwhelmingly positive.