Okay, wow! What a broad (read cop-out) topic (no offense to the wonderful bloggers over at Sunday Scribblings). That being the case, here’s a story I wrote about strippers. Enjoy!
Lakeisha examined her naked body in the bedroom mirror regretting that second piece of Devil’s Food cake. Her sagging midsection and rounded hips stared back at her unapologetically, and as she pushed her small breasts together, she closed her eyes and wished for double D’s. Huge breasts would make her a lot more money she thought. Fluffing her stringy black hair, she flashed a seductive smile only to reveal crooked, discolored teeth and darkened gums. That’s when reality set in. She must have been out of her mind to take this job.
After a year as a cocktail waitress at the Clermont Hotel and Lounge, she accepted an opportunity to be a full-time exotic dancer. Shedding her clothes in the privacy of her bedroom leading up to her first live performance was fairly easy. Her mirror being her only audience, had once supported and cheered for her. But, after countless standing ovations, her old friend had betrayed and demanded that she call the whole thing off. As she reached for the phone, she remember what a friend had told her a few months back.
It was a busy Saturday night. The regulars poured in to celebrate the prestigious honor of “Best Dive Bar in Town,” bestowed on the Clermont by a local paper. Blondie, one of the most popular dancers, was also being honored as “Best Stripper.” Standing 5’4″, and weighing a 165 lbs., she was a firecracker best know for her aggressive and explosive lap dances. For twenty bucks, she’d gladly and forcibly shove both barrels of her shot gun bosom in your face repeatedly – the headache afterwards, a welcomed part of the experience. Bold and brash, she sauntered around the bar in red, wedge, Payless pumps and a platinum blond wig, crushing Bud Light cans with her bare breasts.
Lakeisha admired Blondie’s courage to parade around a packed bar completely naked. She seemed completely comfortable in her own skin and that to shy waitress was quite a feat. Blondie at 55 was not you typical exotic dancer. Where most were tall, firm, perky and smooth, Blondie was the opposite: short, spongy, and sagging with wrinkles. This difference never seemed to bother her or her customers for that matter. Anyone of them would have gladly said that she’s was the most beautiful dancer they ever saw.
As the last of the patrons exited the bar, Lakeisha began clearing away empty drink glasses and bear bottles. Blondie sat at a table in a corner counting the money she’d made that night. She wore a pink, chiffon robe with feathers on the lapel. Her wig, frizzy with sweat, teetered vicariously atop her head revealing a patch of black and gray. The drugstore lipstick on her lips was fading fast, and her Avon cake makeup was cracked in places and smudged in others. Her fake eyelashes clung for dear life to her heavy and tired eyelids.
“That’s quite some haul you got there,” Lakeisha observed.
“Thanks. It’s the best night I’ve had in years,” Blondie stated.
“It’s definitely more than what I made tonight. People just don’t tip waitresses like they used to.”
“Well, why don’t you give dancing a try? They’d go nuts to see a pretty girl like you.”
“That’s sweet of you to say , but no one would pay to see me strip,” Lakeisha protested, gesturing at her frame to prove her point.
“Well, it’s no wonder with an attitude like that,” Blondie stated flatly. “Honey, if I worried about what these people thought of me, how they saw my body, even what they said about me when I wasn’t around, I would have stopped striping a long time ago. Hell, I probably wouldn’t have even started. All the confidence I need to take my clothes off comes from me and nobody else. I know for a fact, that I’m the best-looking piece of ass in this city!”
“Yeah these people really love you,” Lakeisha agreed.
“They have no choice. If I believe I’m worthy of love, that I’m beautiful, no one is able to tell me otherwise. At that point, you have only one option: to agree with me. Self-confidence is the most powerful weapon any person has.”
With those final words, Blondie slowly got up form the table, straightened her achy back and adjusted her wig. Hand on her waist and head held high like the truest diva, she shuffled off to her dressing room.
Remembering those words again, Lakeisha looked herself over in the mirror again. “You are a beautiful woman,” she said to the small breasted, big hipped, dark-skinned woman staring back. And to her surprised, the woman immediately flashed that crooked smile once again.