Working in a strip club when you’re in a fantastic mood is actually really fun.  Smiles are infectious and mine was contaminating the entire building.  Who could resist getting a dance from an entertainer who seemed to love her job so much?  ‘Would you like to see me naked?’  Sure!  ‘Good, because I can’t wait to show you!’

At least that’s how it seemed on the surface.  I was on a roll, too, making money and taking names.  Of course, my sunshine source was Theresa and our second upcoming date.  I was going to cook dinner.  I was going to showcase my wife skills.  I was going to woo her.  But I had to play it cool.  Work was the best distraction and I was thrilled to be there: especially knowing that Theresa knew and was okay with it.  That was icing on the cake.  Our wedding cake.  I can’t explain how thrilled I was about my honesty – did I already use thrilled?  I did.  I don’t care.  It’s the right word.  Thrilled, I tell you!

And to be honest, I wasn’t really fast-forwarding to us being married and living together and having babies.  I was actually just looking forward to having a consistent, intelligent, grown-up relationship with someone and I wanted to do it right.  I didn’t want to rush into things.  You know, the U-Haul on the second date followed by a turkey baster as a two-week anniversary gift.  I just wanted a pleasant girlfriend with just the right balance between her life, my life and our life as a couple.  No crazy.  Theresa fit the bill.

My stage performances were becoming pretty good, but I was feeling brave.  I felt like spicing things up…I even attempted a new trick that I had been nervous about for some time.  It was a one-armed stunt where, I’m only holding on to the pole with, duh, one arm and then I lift my legs up and out into a wide V.  Just for the sake of visuals, let me explain something about this club: there weren’t any hard and fast rules on stage etiquette except those concerning money, of course.  I’d learn those later in Vegas and then Atlanta.  But for stage shows, you could do just about anything naked – splits, tricks, flips, etc.  especially after the 6 ft rule was thrown out.  Yay.  But when it came to doing stuff without panties, we all did it.  In fact, that place was probably a biohazard given the number of naked cooters grazing various surfaces every day and night.  I know, frightening right?  I cringe now, just as I did then.  I mean, why bother sitting on handkerchiefs when you’re just going to ‘spread and grip’ the stage fixtures anyway?  Which is more dangerous?

Needless to say, every time I got off the stage my first stop was the bathroom to wash my hands.  I didn’t even want to think about what could potentially be crawling around on that stage and why anyone in their right mind would just do a split and ‘SPLAT’, there’s your hoohoo, kissing pavement.

Of course the labia majora is supposed to serve as protection for the vaginal cavity, but why push its limitations?  As my brother-in-law makes mention of: ‘the vagina is a temperamental part of a woman’s body’ – or something to that effect.  And he’s right.  I had to learn the hard way just how sensitive she can be.  Each new sexual partner (it hasn’t been that many…just clarifying), she would lose her mind.  No matter how good a time she had, she was always irritated over the next couple of days.  Simply put, she can’t stand new germs – and who could blame her.  So the chances of me attempting any of those maneuvers, or even going spread eagle, were slim to none.

But since working there more regularly, learning more and more each shift, I was taught a few things about how these tricks, stunts and splits were being done without disrespecting the sanctity of my labia majora.  But even with my mood being what it was, I wasn’t ready for those just yet.  So I strived to find other stunts and tricks that didn’t involve gripping something with my crotch.

Not that all of the little stripper monkeys weren’t conscious of whether or not their hoohoos were being violated.  A good lot of them were.  It’s all about placement, balance and coordination.  No problem, I had ALL those.  So, with my overly ambitious, sunny disposition, I tried a new trick.  I figured even if I fell, everything would be okay because I had a date later that week and everyone knows having a date makes everything better!

It was great.  I was solidly hanging from the pole, my body weight perfectly balanced with my legs spread wide and angled backward a little so I didn’t overbalance and drop my legs.  I was so thrilled (there’s that word again).  Here I was, showing off my skills with various people around the stage, including seated right in front of me.  I didn’t have to imagine their awe – I saw it on their faces.  I know, I thought, I’m talented, now tip me.  I smiled and smiled.  One of my buddies came up to the stage too.  She had a dollar in her hand to give to me.  I slowly brought my legs forward (it takes strength to do that, just saying…) and then slowly planted them on the floor.  All smiles, I gratefully accepted her tip.  And she kindly beckoned for me to come forward.  She had a message.

Your tampon string is showing.

Sigh.  I realized why the front row was in awe.  ‘So they do work on their period!’  See, all this time I tried not to work during my cycle.  Similar to not having sex during that time, (which, let’s face it, is a vagina law that is completely outdated.  Put down a towel for crying out loud!)   I felt it was disrespectful to my vagina during her ‘extra temperamental’ time of the month.  But since working full-time and living in Tampa without another solid income source, cutting out a whole week was just not practical.  Same as losing a week of sex in a committed relationship.  So I learned to cut and tuck.  And apparently, I hadn’t tucked enough.

I continued to smile, what else?  I said a polite, thank you, through my teeth and continued to dance.  Upright.  While I barely grooved to the music, I berated myself in my head.  ‘Good job, #$%^&*, the ONE time you go and try something new, you go and embarrass yourself!  Great, now everyone on this side of the room is null and void!’  The opportunity cost of this error weighed on me.  I know I checked myself, too.  That is what’s so frustrating.  I’ll explain The Check.  It was shocking at first when I started dancing and saw others doing it.  I thought, what the *&^% is she doing?  I mean, really?  Is it that pretty?

The Check is the same routine one does after using the bathroom.  Let’s just say, it’s best to use the cheap, thin brand of toilet paper versus the soft, fluffy brands.  The bears in the commercial can probably explain it to you better: toilet paper leaves remnants of itself.  Now that would be an embarrassingly unsexy way to start a stage set.  It’ll halt the flow of your money real quick.  If you don’t believe me, the next time you use the bathroom, grab a mirror.  So here’s how it goes:

1. Find a secluded spot in front of a mirror.  There are tons of mirrors in the dressing room, but for me, I liked to be the only person looking at what I had for breakfast.
2. Bend over.  The angle is very important and there’s a range.  You don’t have to get too in-depth unless you are wearing a tampon and need a string check or if you just used the bathroom and are completing a ‘lint’ check.  If you are a ‘poler’, lots of tricks n such, you should probably bend a little deeper so you can get a similar view to what your customers will be seeing.  Plus, contracting your stomach muscles can also dislodge your grip on the tampon.
3. Spread ’em.  Not that I was spreading them for customers, but one needs to be really sure, right?  You don’t want the guy who could potentially spend hundreds of dollars on you to visualize your vagina and its neighbor doing anything besides dancing, if you know what I mean.  Put yourself in his (or her) shoes.
4. For etiquette sake, don’t stare at other girls doing it.  It’s an embarrassing task to begin with so the last thing anyone wants is an audience.  Especially if they missed something.
5. Baby wipes are not just for baby bottoms.

Remember that this process goes on all night.  Things shift, you use the bathroom…and I was obsessed with checking myself.  For remnants and, hey, she’s pretty ;-).  As mentioned before, vaginas are temperamental and mine is no exception.  This particular night was one of those exceptional evenings because I wasn’t even on my period.  I had gotten embarrassed for nothing.  Well, not nothing.  See, my vagina tends to get overly stimulated when there’s a prospect on deck.  Theresa had been on my mind constantly and my hoohoo knew about it, obviously.  So, my tampon was simply serving as a type of, um, well, dam.  Just in case.  I know…the things strippers go through to make that money.  So, yeah, I was pissed at myself but what could I do?  I figured I should probably take the tampon out.  I wasn’t going to really need it at this point.

I was so embarrassed, but I had to woman up.  This is a natural process in a woman’s body, don’t keep…I stopped thinking as soon as I checked my phone.  Theresa called and had left a message.  ‘Hi *&^%$, I hope you’re having a good night at work making lots of money.  I look forward to seeing you this weekend.  I’ll talk to you soon.  Theresa.’

I decided to leave the tampon where it was — followed by a thorough check.