Most things i have to say about this is going to be censored. And there’s something terribly wrong with that. I wish America was really free like it’s label, but nothing is ever that simple. I’ll try to tone it down a little, for the sake of publication. Starting from the beginning was always a bit of a problem for me, as i tend to zig zag through life like a Uranian lightning bolt. But i’ll do my best.

My first day of dancing was unlike anything i’d ever experienced, yet i had the most eerie sensation of deja vu all night long.

My stepmom had just kicked me out, throwing pills i’d stopped taking months before at me and sneering “Good riddance” as my stepbrother jeered “Keep in touch”. Yeah right. I preferred never to see that twisted family again. My friend, we’ll call her Amanda for her protection, had gotten kicked out the same day i did. I met her at school.. College was brief, though informative, and i met a couple people that would put me on my present path. I wasn’t considering the implications of dancing when we first went to audition at the only nude club in town. I was in survival mode, an all too familiar setting unfortunately. But i saw opportunity where others saw failure. And besides i’m stubborn.

It was a regular white stucco building with a big purple neon sign out front of the name. I was so nervous i could puke. I was a little chubby from just having an abortion at 6 months and i felt out of place. A fishnet bodysuit was my audition outfit, i remember looking at the holes and giggling, feeling silly. When i auditioned, it was empty, the club just opening. The parking lot was in the back through an alleyway between it and another building, a dancer wear store, of course. A little cliche.. There were so many potholes i thought i was back home for a split second. Beautiful clear day. My palms sweating buckets. My stomach full of giant butterflies. My heart pounding in my throat. Filling out an application at the bar was a little excruciating. Dave was the one who interviewed us i believe. He looked a little like Drew Carey, round, short, same hair cut, glasses, and sense of humor. But little did i know he was a good manager. We ended up making a lot of money with him. He knew how to run a business, keep the girls and customers and deejay and bouncers and owner happy, all at the same time. He knew how to make work fun. He knew when to be fair and lenient and when not to bend. I miss him. Maybe if we had more of him, this business wouldn’t have gone down so much. There are still people with money, just not as many who are spending it. My first stage was the most awkward thing i’d ever done. It was only the dj watching me, but i felt exposed and under a microscope. I started dancing to rock, and because of the way the club worked, i was a rock girl from then on. If i wanted to dance to anything else, he had to put me before someone who played the other music i wanted. The stages were connected by a catwalk, the bigger stage nearest the front door and vip. The vip room had a carpeted ramp going up to a room lit with red with little booth cubicle type things with mirrors lining the walls, potted plants, and a few tables. No liquor was served, but we had a food menu. The dressing room was small, lockers lining the back wall, a mirror lining the wall opposite with a counter and chairs for doing our makeup, and not much room in between. But we managed. That’s one thing about dancers; we learn to be very resourceful, to make something out of nothing.