I am from this moment forth (well technically a little while before I went jogging, so I'd say from 1 and a half hour ago) that I am gonna stop blaming myself so much!
*fistshake*
Let me elaborate.
Last September I started stripping. I was very very excited by the idea and went in it with full confidence. Heck, I knew that I wasn't only pretty and sexy, I was smart and a great conversationalist. I did only soso, but I understood that this is just a part of not knowing the ropes, being new and so forth.
But then it started going downhill for no appearant reason. I would return many nights with nothing and it wasn't getting any better. The idea of failure nagged at my mind (one of my few fears) and I started getting depressed and making hasty assessments that I wasn't pretty/smart/flirty enough. I would drive anywhere in the proximity of the club and start to hyperventilate simply because the job was starting to breed anxiety in me.
And that's where bright and shining SW came, like an angel of clairvoyance and sensibility, and cleared the smoke away from my eyes.
It wasn't that I wasn't pretty or smart or *insert adjective*. It wasn't because I'm slightly on the chunky side either. It wasn't that the job itself didn't appeal to me. I like the stripping and chatting part! I started understanding that when 19 out of 20 guys are just there to try and solicit sex from you, you cannot possibly be sexy while constantly dodging nagging and idiocy. I also understood that when there are 3 customers per night and 30 girls (read 0,1 customer per girl) the reason why I was talking to these mudbrains was because I didn't have any other choice.
So screw it! I didn't fail anything! I just hate to try and pretend I'm gonna do something just to say that I wont later. No stripping for me until I go to the States with my (to-be) husband and I'm gonna FUCKING kick ass.
</rant>



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