Every Girl Wants to be a Stripper

Of this I'm sure. How do I know? Because I just went to my first pole dancing class less than a week ago.

It.was.awesome!

And it was a great place to make some interesting observations.

Observation #1: FAT GIRLS WANT TO BE STRIPPERS TOO

There were seven stripper poles (not including the instructor's pole) and 11 of us closet freak ladies who showed up to the class. Amazing that in the South you've got the Bible belt and you've got girls packing into an intro stripping class in their tights and near-undies paying to shake it.

Out of 11 girls, 3 were BIG girls. Not thick, BIG. And no, I was not one of them. I guess big girls have inner freaks too...ones they might have accidentally ingested. Have you ever seen a BIG girl slide sexily around a stripper pole? Neither have I. I didn't see any of the 3 break any laws of physics that night.

Observation #2: CRIPPLED GIRLS WANT TO BE STRIPPERS TOO

Now, this was more surprising than the BIG girls. I noticed this girl in the lobby standing around a few other girls. She had a cane. It wasn't a cane that could have been mistaken for a cleverly added accessory of a bold fashonista (it was a dance class after all). It was one of those metal canes with the gray rubber handle and the four legs at the end. This cane meant business when it came to keeping this girl upright.

Once they let us in the room after the last stripping class (another full looking one) ended, I was instantly mesmerized by the shiny red poles sticking up out of the floor and chained to beams in the ceiling. I claimed a pole in the last row and right in the corner of the studio.

Then I saw the girl with the metal cane again. The instructor assigned two to a pole, and the girl teamed up with one of her friends. Was she really going to dance? And let alone on a pole? I didn't mean to stare, but I never thought I would ever see this scenario play out in life.

The instructor (more on her later) began the class with a warm up - putting a sexy, strippery spin on the stretches. The girl with the cane already looked like she was struggling. At one point, the instructor had us sit on the ground to stretch our legs, and the girl with the cane was conspicuously left to stand. After the warm up, she sat down and stayed in that chair for the remainder of the class. But I bet she felt sexy as hell sitting in that chair!


Observation #3: STRIPPING INSTRUCTORS ARE HOTTER THAN HELL

Now I'm in love with another stripper - or at least a stripper instructor. This girl was just...damn (bites knuckles in remembrance). She had on these tight white boy shorts that teasingly let the slightest lower portion of her toned cheeks slip out. Her body was just phenomenal, from her calves to her thighs to her butt to her abs to her arms. I've never seen a stripper that toned so I'm not so sure she's a stripper. I was too nervous to approach her after class and ask her if she stripped somewhere or just loved teaching people to dance on poles.

Observation #4: OLD WOMEN WANT TO STRIP TOO

As the prior class was letting out there was this one big boobed lady who lingered on her pole to do some extra pole tricks - the kind where you climb up high on the pole and hang upside down with the nonchalance and grace of Venus. When she eventually decided to stop wowing us and come down, you could see that she was in amazing shape. Another woman there, who had just readjusted her jaw which had dropped to the floor along with the rest of ours, said this marvel of a woman was 50! Must I repeat: 50 years old this woman was! Yes, pole dancing is a great workout - my hands, right arm, and inner thigh were aching the next day - but I think this lady just needed an excuse to let out the freak in her from back in the day!

Conclusion

Several times in college, I've had to concoct (teehee) phallic analyses to make Shakespeare or Mark Twain more interesting, but no situation (outside of actual sex) has lent itself more readily to phallic interpretation than seeing 10 women sliding down, twirling around, and grinding on stripper poles. It's ironic that the phallus is a symbol of staid power, such as those poles secured to the studio ceiling, yet we were teasing and seducing those poles and making ourselves look and feel glamorous and sexy at their expense, and there was nothing those inanimate phallic poles could do about it, even as they towered above us all big, shiny, and red. We were subdued and subduing at the same time. Oh the beauty of balance.

I'm in Love with a Stripper

I thought the song of the same title was ridiculous until I too fell in love with a stripper. Well I didn't actually fall in love, but I did develop a massive girl crush that's strong enough.

Now if you had seen me after my first (well second - my first strip club experience was at a seedy 18 and up club in San Francisco at 8pm on a weekday- eeewww) real strip club experience, you would wonder how the hell I developed a crush on a stripper! I received one dance from an actually really hot girl who had nice perky, implanted breasts, and I sat like a stick with a stick up it's ass while I made her dance awkwardly in front of me with my uncomfortable vibes. Not a good time.

Now this second (really third time's a charm!) time, it was my birthday. So thankfully I had free alcohol to loosen me up. And then she got up on the stage. She was perfect. She didn't even look like she would work at a strip club no matter how decent the establishment. I felt privileged to be seeing her perfect, naked body.

She was probably about 5'8" (with stripper heels) with a size 4 waist, toned legs, and perfect palm-filling breasts. She had a long weave, but she kept it nice so it wasn't a bad thing. I guess she was going for this sexy, black, Jessica Simpson in Dukes of Hazzard look because she had on these tattered blue jean cut off shorts. Mercy, thinking about her now makes me want her all over again...

Anyway, the girl was FINE. I had the great fortune of having my boyfriend buy me a dance from her, and it was just one of the best things in life ever. Her skin was so soft I wanted to feel it from the inside out! She was so damn fine I wanted to be her if I couldn't be with her!

But of course, neither of those things will ever happen. The closest I'll come is going to my pole-dancing class and remembering her as the instructor teaches me to swing myself a full 360 degrees around a pole. I'll do it in memory of her.

Evil Thoughts

Have you ever just wanted to be so evil to someone - do something so bad you knew would make you feel so perfectly satisfied? I have that feeling almost every time I see my roommate, also known as the scum of the deepest pit in hell.

I just don't like him as a person, and his face makes me want to wish evil on him and do him personal harm. Recently, I had a succulent, evil idea! I got soooo sick from partying hard on my birthday (my mom's theory) and couldn't swallow my own saliva. My throat was so swollen I sounded like an obese Martian when I tried to talk. This handicap caused me to have to keep a spit cup around to avoid the excruciating pain of any involuntary swallow.

Well, this spit cup filled up. And I COULD NOT get the idea out of my head of taking my sickly liquid, putting it in an empty spray bottle, and spraying it on anything my roommate was sure to touch. His toothbrush would have been perfect...but I have another roommate, and they share the same bathroom, so I wouldn't know which brush belonged to the one I hate.

But evilly imagine it with me: spraying it on his pillow so he's sure to inhale the germs, on his doorknob, and, oh, do I admit even further depravity by imagining spraying it on his food!

Why do I dislike this guy so much you're probably wondering? Because he was born of jackals. Well, really because he has whores over all the time. It's a different girl every other day, and I'm tempted to say out loud to him and whichever whore he has over at the moment, "Jeez another one? How many girlfriends does this one make - 12?"

Besides allowing strange women to roam through the house shouting his name when he's on the back porch smoking weed, he has these ghetto, loud friends that are ALWAYS over here. Everyday there is some person in my house I don't know!

On the bright side, he has made me vow to never, EVER (even if I had to live out of my car in the winter) live with another roommate - even if I know the person. I lived here first and enjoyed peace, but since he's moved in, evil thoughts have been doing cartwheels over his face in my head.

So for now, I just count down the days until my lease is over - or until I convince my boyfriend that we should move in together and get someone else to take over my lease. Until one of those two things happens, hopefully he dies or I just learn a great lesson in patience.