My loyal readers, I love you all, but alas, I feel like I’ve be holding out on you.

I’ve never publicly discussed my brief stripping career.

In January of 2006 I had just moved to Brooklyn and wrapped up my freshman semester at FIT. I had very very few friends in nyc and had distanced myself from my friends in upstate nyc. I lived in a studio apartment in a neighborhood overrunn by children with nannies. I was lonely.

But most of all I was Bored.

At the suggestion of my friend Oly, I auditioned for a job at Stiletto in Times Square. I brought a pair of seven inch clear plastic heels as we didn’t have time to shop around so I had to grab the first pair that fit on St Marks. Nobody ever checked my id or even asked for a SS, they looked me up and down like the piece of meat you are as a stripper and approved me.

I took the name Lola from the book Lolita and the Kinks song that sings “she walks like a woman and talks like a man”, this probably wasn’t the wisest move as A. Lola is hard for men to understand in a noisy club…people think you’re name is Lala, B. Stripper names should not come from songs about drag queens. Or maybe they should? C. Strip club patrons do not pick up on references to classic literature.

Stripping turned out to be a great way to spend Winter break. I slept till late afternoon everyday, waking up to leisurely put on makeup, eat and read before heading to work.

Work although frustrating[January is a notiriously bad time for strippers] was kind of fun. I enjoyed learning to pole dance, observing the different dynamics between strippers, performing on stage …

The money was great and since I was working so much I barely even spent it. I had cash lying all over my apartment.

Of course all great things come to an end. Management was shady at best, even if you made $20 you still had to pay a tip out of over a $100… Towards the end of the month I was told that while in school I would have to continue working 5 nights a week. I decided to wait to make my decision regarding this even though I knew right there and than that I would stop working once classes started up.

Towards the end of my run I came to work one night feeling horribly sick and nauseous. I asked to leave but was denied. I was doing a lap dance and felt cold and sweaty, and that urge to throw up got stronger and stronger till finally I collected my money and bolted for the dressing room. I puked and than begged to go home and was denied again.

There was no way I could leave through the front door. There were cameras everywhere and my boss was watching, if I decided to walk through the floor in street clothes I would of been stoped.

Frustrated I took manners into my own hands. I got dressed, dumped all the contents of my locker into my bag and ran out the back door. The back was fenced off to separate itself from a parking lot so I climbed the fence and ran thought the parking lot out on to the street.
That was the last I ever saw of Stiletto.

COMING SOON: My life as a stripper: Part Two!