Let me start off by explaining what lead me to my decision to become a dancer. At age 11(yes 11), I felt the overwhelming urge to become a stripper. At 11. Obviously, I couldn't do that, so I left the idea to rot in the back of my mind. Once I turned 19, the idea came back to me. With a car and a job, I figured "why not", but then reality hit and I remembered how overweight I am. I once again left the idea alone. Until, one day at work, when one of the larger girls I worked with told me about how she used to day, and brought home decent money, despite being one of the larger girls. So with the help of a good friend, I scoured the city looking for clubs until I came across one willing to hire on the spot. I danced my little heart away every day for three weeks, only to find that I'd be bringing home money I could count on one hand. The most I had made was 50, which came out to 38 after floor fees and such. I left once I realized I wasn't going to bring anything home worth losing sleep over. I actually began having severe hallucinations from my lack of sleep.
I decided to try another club on the southside of town. A place a larger African American would have a better opportunity to make money, since the area is mostly Mexican. I was used to maybe 3 customers during my entire shift at the previous club. This club had at least 20 people and the next shift hadn't even started. I put on my best outfit and headed for the floor. Almost immediately I was confronted with obscene proposals from a man pretending he couldn't understand English. Hours later I was in the corner attempting to make myself less of a target after a day of being bombarded by Mexican men wanting sex. I was so irritated by the fact that the bouncer was prejudice against larger girls and wouldnt help me when I was cornered by three men who attempted to shove beer down my throat, even after I told them I couldn't drink. They tag teamed me, grabbing and sucking at my breast, and trying to finger me and the bouncer would look away every time I looked to him for help.
The icing on the cake came later in the day when two dancers started a fight that had the entire bar in arms. I got the chance to witness grown ass folks beating the shit out of the bartender while he had a taser in hand, and watched a girl hit repeatedly in the face with the dressingroom door. And of course there was the butcher lesbian attacking customers with a pool stick. After it was safe to leave, I grabbed my pepper spray and asked the bouncer to walk me to my car. He walked me to the door. Which is nowhere near my car. So for now, my dancing days are over. I'll spend this extra time getting toned so I can find an upscale place to dance for. I'm not giving up hope, just yet.






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