The Time I Started Stripping


I’m going to be giving you guys a lot of back stories.  A- because they’re fun.  B- because I think it will help you figure out the real me, and where I’ve been in this crazy little life.  This is the story about how I started stripping (as if you had trouble reading the title).  And keep in mind, one thing always leads to another.  And if I leave a hole in the story, it’s because I will elaborate on that part of it somewhere in the future.

So there I was.  The year was 2003.  I had just graduated that May from Choctaw High School.  There were 596 kids in my class.  And of them, I ranked number 295.  Brilliant, I know.   When I walked across that stage I was 17 years old.  I was wearing a cute little black and white tube top dress and a red cubic necklace and earring set that my mom bought for me.  They were actually very beautiful.  Wish I still had them.

My best friend and I had been planning to get a place together all along, but I wouldn’t turn 18 until that following August.  So that summer seemed like an eternity.  Just as it would any teenager awaiting the departure from nest to… well… new nest.

She had been working at Applebee’s waiting tables, and I was working at a car wash on the north side with my dad.  He was the manager, I needed a job, we just became friends again… and so on.  So we had been saving a little bit of money from our jobs to get this place together.

When time got closer, we put our money together to see what we had.

Well… this is just not enough.  We’ve got to do something else, because I will not stay at my grandparent’s house a day past 18!

And I meant that.  Every word.

You know.  We could make a killing working at a club.  Stripping.  We could afford a nice house and nice cars.  AND MORE!

One of us geniuses said.  Doesn’t really matter which one because we basically shared a brain.  Scary.

On my 18th birthday, August 14, 2003, was the first time I had ever stepped foot into a strip club.  I’ll never forget that smell.  You all know what I’m talking about.  Wet cigarette smoke, stale beer, nasty carpet and cheap fucking parfume.  Happy Birthday to me!

We walked in, and went straight to the back.  The manager’s name was Louis.  He was perched up on this stool at the end of the bar.  He had a black money lock box sitting next to him.  He was a big man.  I’m talking 4 bills at least!  I figured he didn’t move from that stool much.  I’d later find out that I was correct.

So there we sat, filling out our applications.  Every once in a while I’d sneak a secret peak at the ladies on the stage.  We went in the middle of the day, by the way, so you can only imagine the “talent” that graced the stage.  I was thinking,

Shiiiiiit I can do THAT!  Or can I?  What if I’m worse than that?  What am I doing?  Oh well, already gave him your ID to copy.  Keep going!

So we finished our apps and he asked when we could start.  He proceeded to tell us that he had amateur night on Wednesday which also doubled as quarter beer night.

Oh yeah!  That’s perfect.  We’ll see you then.

We got to the car, and all we could talk about was how much money we’ll make, and how I’ll be able to pay for school.  Sounds cliche, but it’s true.

Wait a second.  What do we wear? We have to go to Christy’s and get some outfits.

My best friend said.

Christy’s Toy Box was Oklahoma premier sex shop.  Okay it was the only one.

So we went, we shopped, we bought.

What about shoes?   We can go barefoot, right?  

Yeah sure!  I’m not dancing in those tall ass shoes.  I’ll break my neck.

I respond.

So we were set.  That wednesday we show up, “ready” to go.  I’m not sure what I expected the crowd to be like on a quarter beer night.  But there were a TON of people there.  All the sudden I was scared shitless.  Louis was sitting at the same spot. He says:

You girls ready?  Got your 6 inch heels?  

Um… we don’t have shoes.  And 6 inches?

Yeah.  That’s the minimum requirement.  You guys better go get some.  And hurry.  You’ve gotta have your name in rotation in 3o minutes.  

So we had to go get some friggen shoes, get ready.  Oh AND we had to think of some names to dance by.

We were in such a hurry that we grabbed the first shoes we could find.  They were bright red, with horrible fuzzy, feathery looking stuff on the strap across the front.  Also, the heels were only about 2 inches.

Great! Not only am I going to suck.. they’re going to be laughing at my shoes.  

We told the big guy, he didn’t care too much.  Just said next time we’d better have the right shoes.

We got ready in the designated dressing room.  But let me tell you, when I say this room was the shittiest place on earth, multiply that by like 5 and you have our “dressing room”.  The floor was slanted, and I still can’t figure out why.  There was no bathroom, only a shower that the girls stood and took a drunken piss in.  NO I’m not kidding.  Lockers that didn’t shut OR have the capability of locking and one small mirror for all the girls to share.  There were probably 12-15 girls in there.  And as much as I tried to hide it, I was scared.  Not because the girls were intimidating.  I was scared to touch anything.  I wanted to get dressed and get the hell outta there!! So we did just that.  Also, we carried our bags around all night.  No way I was leaving it in there, I’d rather look like an idiot.  As if the shoes weren’t enough.

We made our way up to the DJ booth.  He was surprisingly very warm and friendly.  We told him that we hadn’t come up with names yet.  So he helped us.  He pointed to her and said “Star”, because I love that star necklace you’re wearing!  He looked at me and said “Roxy” because you’ve got some very roxy eyes.  Okay.  Whatever that means.

So let me paint this picture for you.  There I stand in this black and white two piece outfit.  The bottom are short shorts.  The top is like a crop top, puffy sleeved shirt.  I have on those RIDICULOUS shoes.  My hair is looooong and black.  Because this was before I started bleaching it.  And I wore about a size 30A bra.  This was also pre-boobs.  Not quite sure if I had any innocence left before that moment, standing there at that DJ booth, but I knew I’d pretty much have NONE after my requested first song “Enter Sandman” came on and I walked up those steps to that giant platform stage.

The club was called “The Red Dog”.  It is by far the biggest strip club I’ve been to, ever.  It’s two levels with 4 stages.  3 on the bottom, one on the top.  There were pool tables every where.  Giant TV’s.  The first stage was right in the middle of the whole damn place.  There were these horrible steps you had to climb to get up there, because the stage was probably raised 4 feet from the ground.  We were walking downstairs from the DJ booth to get to it, and wait for our turns (I would be first, then “Star”).  I remember guys reaching out to touch me, and I kept swatting them away.  Ew.

Baby, let me get a lap dance.

MMMM, y’all are fresh meat!

How much for a dance, sweet heart?!

OH MY GOD, LAP DANCES.  Why in the hell didn’t I think of that?! Well.  I am NOT touching these guys.  They have to sit on their hands.

That’s what was going through my head.  It kind of distracted me from the nerves of getting on that stage and taking my CLOTHES off for strange men.  And when I say clothes, it was just the top because Oklahoma is AWESOME like that.  I mean that seriously.  Topless only.  It was sweet!

I hear my name

Up next is, Viper.  On deck we have the brand NEW ROXY!!!

So after this Viper chick, who is super good and you could tell she’s been at it for a while and who was also 5 months pregnant, was me.  Little, tiny, fresh out of high school, no one’s ever seen me naked in the light before, ME.

She finished.  I don’t remember much after her going up, because my heart was in a bunch and my brain wouldn’t let any thoughts through.  I remember hearing “Roxy”, I remember getting help up the stairs from one of the bouncers, and I remember dancing my ass off.  I also remember guys coming to tip me like there was no tomorrow, and me not even putting my tiny tits in their face.  You’re not supposed to touch them, and they’re not supposed to touch you, and in that moment I was glad for that.

When it was over, “Star” would go on that stage, and I’d go to the tiny little stage with just a pole.  I mean it was tiny.  Probably 3 feet in circumference and had a pole right smack dab in the middle that went all the way to the top floor of the place.  Some girls could climb it all the way to the top and kiss the drunk patrons on the second floor.  I’d never even touched one before.  But I acted like I knew what I was doing.  I’d give a little spin here and there.  Then, when her song was over, I’d switch again to the next stage which was by far my favorite.  It was a giant spinning cage.  I climbed up and sat on the bar which was supposed to look like a perch and just flung my hair to the heavy metal, with my top off.  The top stage was closed that night, thank God.  I was done.  There were too many girls working that night, so that was my only ‘go round’ on the stages.  I was grateful for that, too.

We walked the floor together, gave two lap dances together, and went and changed back into our normal clothes.  Together.  We counted our money when all the girls weren’t in the “gross-room”, She had made close to $300.00, and I had made just about the same.  I legitimately thought that was a killing for a 4 hour shift, and thought I could put my woes about the place/”job” aside, at least temporally, for that kind of dough.  She felt the same way.  We headed out the door at the end of the night.  I had those hideous shoes in my hand and I tossed them happily into the trash can by the front door.

Before going back, we got the right shoes.  I worked there for 2 months.  And I’m not even partially kidding when I say that I started getting annoyed that it was interfering with me being able to watch football with my friends.  I quit dancing in October of 2003.  “Star” stayed there for a while after.

I don’t hold many memories from that place, except for the one night that my dad walked in, saw me on the main stage, and walked right out.  I will never forget that feeling.  I tried to push it down and forget it…. but that was pretty much the last straw.  I called a guy who would soon be my husband, and he came and got me out of there.

And I was able to watch football any time it was on.  I found a new job, and that started the next chapter of my life.

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22 thoughts on “The Time I Started Stripping

  1. Great post. Interesting and well told. You should write a book, you’d be good at it.

  2. Wow, what a life! I can think what your dad feeling that night, like a limbo guess.

  3. Wow you saw you Dad there? Awkward though it seems you already had a different relationship with him since you were living with your grandparents and mentioned you became friends again with him while working at the car wash… Also can do those sentences that you insert in another color besides white? It makes them harder to read on my screen. Keep up the biography! It’s always interesting to see how people became what they are today.

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