In a world where all strippers were replaced with pregnant women, I’m sure strip clubs would be a lot more tempting to go back to and I’d feel more inclined to return to the world of cheeky, expensive sexcapades.
There’d be more than one toilet per changing room, as they’d constantly be in high demand and ladies would be spewing in them for entirely different reasons. There’d be iodine tablet dispensers in the bathrooms rather than cigarette machines and other than copious amounts of bio oil, makeup stations would be totally bare, as no one would bother with lipstick or eyeshadow.
On the floor we would waddle around until weird customers would offer to buy us mocktails. We would sip juice without vodka while flirting with our rich clients at the bar, who would pay hundreds to rub our bellies and feet.
We would wear comfy slippers instead of heels and dance to slow, calm music. The pole on stage would be there as more of a leaning post and there would be squishy pads around the base for soft landing. Other safety precautions would be set in place in case of tumbles, such as mattresses on the floor and padding around the edges of the stage. Climbing poles or stretching too much would be out of the question.
We would wear baggy, stained singlets and boxer shorts. Pajamas would also be fine attire whilst on the job. The only items of clothing we would take off on stage would be flinging off uncomfortable bras or unbuttoning our pants, releasing our muffin tops with a sigh of relief.
Every fifteen minutes would be a snack break, where we’d help ourselves to pickles, salty chips, or whatever our cravings happen to be at the time. Chocolate would be compulsory.
We would never have to listen to the sob stories of customers, as it’s all about us. We would have every right to burst into tears at any given moment and tantrums would be completely acceptable behavior. This would include punching clients, screaming at the bouncers and getting into catfights with the other dancers.
Words like “fat” would be banned from being used entirely.
There would be big, comfy couches in all the private rooms specifically designed for pregnant women. They’d include built in massage machines and huge squishy maternity pillows for maximum comfort. We would all be allowed to take regular naps. In fact, we would probably get paid for it.
Our hard earned cash wouldn’t be wasted on plastic surgery or drugs. We’d have most of it put aside to go towards our childrens’ educations and spend the rest on our days off at baby clothing store sales.
If pregnant women were strippers, we would choose suitable stage names out of baby name books, rather than car brands like Porsche or Mercedes, or alcohol names like Brandy and Tequila.
We wouldn’t be expected to do any heavy lifting or work too hard. Resting would be encouraged and we would be treated like queens with the utmost respect of all customers and management alike. We would always get sent home early to ensure a good night’s sleep. And if we didn’t want to work, simply because we “don’t feel like it,” then that would be perfectly alright too.
Ahh, if only.