So after asking what you’d like to see me write more about, apparently most of you nosey buggers are curious about my lifestyle as a stripper. I apologize to any of you ladies who refuse to be labeled a “stripper” and prefer the job title, “exotic dancer,” but let’s not sugar- coat it. I’m pretty sure everyone here has a fair idea of what the job entails. And if you don’t, well pop down to your friendly local stripclub, my friend. You’re in for a treat.
So here you have it: A Day in the Life of a Stripper.
6:00am – My driver grabs my bags and I slump into the back seat after a long night at the club. By this hour my makeup has wriggled an inch down my face and there are two swollen red things where my feet used to be. You can usually tell a girl on her way home from working at a stripclub by the way she drags an oversized duffel bag behind her, shuffling in Ugg boots and her Juicy Couture tracksuit up the street on her way to order something off the McDonald’s breakfast menu, most likely. Her hair will be up in a messy bun and her eyes will be shielded from the morning light in her massive shades. You’ll notice traces of glitter and bad decisions smeared across her weary face. DO NOT attempt to flirt with, or even talk to, a stripper after hours. You WILL be harshly rejected and you WILL have a McDonald’s hot chocolate tipped on your head. After a night of false laughter and philandering with drunken males, the last thing this poor girl wants to do is spark up a conversation with your sleazy ass.
6:30am – I wake up to my lovely driver patting me on the knee to let me know I’m home. He hands me a cigarette and my order of sausage egg Mcmuffin he so kindly picked up while I was asleep. I pull out a few loose notes from my bag, thank him, and sleepily find my way to the heavenly oasis that is my bed.
12:00pm – I don’t know if you can class this as actually waking up, but I shuffle over to the bathroom, do ma bizz and inspect the remains of my face in the mirror. Sometimes I’ve had the energy earlier for makeup removal, but if I haven’t, at this stage I’m wiping lipstick off my cheeks and ripping false eyelashes off my forehead. I Yank off my fishnets and slip into silk boxers instead. Back to bed.
1:30pm – Better eat something. I check the fridge for possible food choices. On days like these; red wine, half- eaten chicken chow mein and peanut butter are definitely reasonable meal options. I force something into my stomach and as it settles I use this leisure for a cigarette and an episode or three of Adventure Time while counting my cash from last night.
3:00pm – Showertime. I’ll spend at least half an hour in here. Either because I’ve fallen asleep again or because it’s shaving day. (Mondays and Tuesdays are definitely not shaving days. But every good stripper knows, if it’s a Friday or a Saturday, all hair must go.) I’ll usually listen to ridiculous booty music whilst showering. Note: for those of you unfamiliar with “booty music,” here is an example:
“Even nerdy white girls fall victim to the charm and pull of booty music.”
And I do some weird kind of bathroom dance in the nudie that’s even cuter than Cameron Diaz’s butt wiggle in Charlie’s Angels.
3:30pm – After some serious exfoliating, (stripper sin takes a lot of scrubbing to get off,) I’ll chuck on a mask. Anything citrus or mint is great for shock- starting your face into work- mode. But my all- time fave is definitely Rotorua mud. I know the thought of painting your face with sludge sounds a bit filthy to most foreigners, but New Zealand thermal springs have long been used for their incredible natural health benefits. Besides, I know that later on tonight when I’m sitting on that Asian’s lap and he won’t stop touching my face, he’ll probably tip me extra because my “skin so soff.”
4:00pm – I attempt to follow my instructional yoga DVD once again, but when the physics of her leg- bending start to look impossible and I’ve thrown the remote at the screen, yelling profanities at my virtual instructor, I feel it’s time I give up and move onto something a little easier. Like scrubbing off this crusty mask and making a start on my makeup.
4:30pm – In order to begin the Miss Whiskey transformation all the right conditions must be present; i.e more booty music blasting and snacks, such as original salted Doritos, at hand. I attack myself head- to- toe with Hello Kitty Bubblegum flavored bodyspray. This is a very common stripper scent. It makes you smell like twelve year old and the oldies dig it. Basic makeup; (foundation, powder, glitter,) is applied. The rest; (eyes, lips, more glitter,) can be added later in the changing room at work. I put a little effort into straightening my hair, but don’t bother too much with it at this stage. I won’t go into too much detail with hair and makeup. You can wait for my stripper makeover tutorial for that.
5:00pm – Place my order at Momotea. I’m such a regular there it’s almost embarrassing. It’s telepathic the way the little lady at the counter recognizes my voice and is already telling me my “seafoo combo wit tofu an steam vege on rye” (translation: “seafood combination with tofu and steamed veges on rice,”) is already being made. Oh, and don’t forget the taro milk tea with nata. If you haven’t tried one of these bad boys, you haven’t lived. I opt for the iced coffee instead if my guarana tablets, vitamin C and iron pills haven’t done the trick. Slapping my face and blinking hard also seems to work when I need a little extra kick- start.
6:00pm – Arrive a lil early to allow time for spraytan application and half an hour or so to stand around naked and air dry if there’s no other girls around with a spare minute to blast me with a hairdryer. If I’m lucky my food has arrived and I can get a little Momotea goodness in me before I’m due on the floor. I chuck the remainder of my makeup at my face and give my hair the quick once over before slipping into a good night- starter, such as a cute costume or an elegant evening dress. (Think Betty Boop or Jessica Rabbit). Compare boobs and pussies with other girls in the mirror. Get yelled at to hurry up and get my ass downstairs.
7:00pm – On the floor. Any later than 7:10pm and that’s an instant $50 fine to my manager. The club is still empty at this stage, bar Herbert the Pervert in his usual corner and Creepy Pete sitting up front stage. The next few hours are a drag of chatting with bar staff, listening to the other girls complain about their boyfriends and playing Angry Birds on my cellphone whilst waiting for the club to fill up.
10:30pm – After what feels like forever, things finally start to heat up in the club. If it’s a good night, I’ve hopefully given a few lappys by now. If not, I’ve smoked at least half a pack of Benson & Hedges Rich out of sheer boredom.
12:00pm – From midnight onwards I spend my night either galavanting about the club, wallet- hunting, in a private booth with a highly intoxicated stranger, or on stage before a hundred greedy eyes. My favorite part of the night is definitely my time spent on stage. I’m far away enough that no one can touch me, but close enough to tease the living hell out of anyone within eyesight. There is no better feeling than baring your soul before an audience who are in absolute awe of you. And there’s something pretty cool about having money rain down over you too, I must say. My confidence and pride are at their absolute peak when I’m naked under a spotlight. Each stage spot is around fifteen minutes long. Just the right amount of time spent up there eyeing up the next victim, whose credit card contents I plan on annihilating by the end of the next hour.
5:30am (ish) – Time to cash up my tips and have a quick shower before dialing my driver and finishing up for the night. Transform back into my “daytime self.” Fight off the stragglers as they try to follow us out of the club. Repeat.
[shareaholic app="share_buttons" id="<insert shareaholic app ID here>"]