Art and Costumes

I was on my way to pole dance class the other day when an email popped up on my phone informing me that I had sold some of my art on Etsy. I was so stoked - I haven't given my Etsy page a thought in over a few months.

I honestly don't know how people can depend on internet sales to survive on. Well, any sales really considering I know there are days when no one walks into the shop I work at. But internet especially. When I started my little slice of botanical art there was no one doing it. I know this because I googled the everliving crap out of it to make sure. Now when you do an etsy search a zillion similar products pop up. And cheaper, too. The American way.

C'est la vie.



I was feeling like I was stuck in a rut go go wise so I made myself a fringe bra to wear for my last shift. Now, let's chat about bras for a moment. I am a 34D. I think. (Honestly, boobs are confusing). You know what sucks about being a 34D? Its like bra makers decided you're either a porn star and want sheer, see through, "hey everyone look at my aerolas aren't they fabulous" fabrics with cleavage up to your bangs:

vavaVOOM

look mom, no nipples!

Behold my opaque seams

Or you are 95 years old with boobs to your knees and you simply need a support hose rubberband to haul them back up: 

it's like a battle tank make of nude satin

And don't get me wrong, I LOVE the sexy come hither bras. They are mostly what I own. But they don't make very good foundational pieces for a costume that's "sexy not strippy". And yes, I can  cover them with fabric but that takes SO. MUCH. EFFORT. So whats a girl to do? The discount stores only offer bras in these two catergories so I went to Victoria's Secret and I paid full price.

Fifty Dollars. Fifty dollars for a freaking bra that I covered with black fringe. But it was blue. And I needed a blue, non-see-through, actually functions to hold my tits down bra.

isn't it glorious?

I think I need to play with the straps more. Glitter? Probably. But it worked for the evening.

Interesting side note: I wore this bra and a miniskirt and made more money than i have in months. Okay, okay, I also took an eyebrow pencil and outlined my boobs so they looked HUGE. Whatever works. I suppose it also might have had to do with the AMAZING DJ that was working that night. How can you not exude pure sex when you get to dance on a box in a room full of people to Closer by the Nine Inch Nails?

And then the cream of the sexy dancing crop:

I mean, how is that not worth some dollar bills?

But I think I am going to start showing more skin. Mama needs to pay off her credit card bills.

We're not that kind of bar

So Go Go dancing. It's what, July now? So I've been at it for over 3 months and I am still not sure what to think of the whole thing. In a lot of ways its pretty cool: I got to quit my gym because OMG, I have abs for the first time since moving to this city. Four hours of straight dancing while sucking it in so you look good does wonders for your core. Plus, I just freaking love dancing.

But in some other ways...

I'm not sure if I have made this clear or not before but the bar where I dance is a 60s style go go bar. Meaning its knee high boots and Sonny and Cher not clear platform stilettos and Rihanna. (Side note: I just Googled Rihanna because I can never spell her name and just now learned that she was born in 1988, so I'm going to go cry silent tears into a can of chocolate frosting now).

We don't get topless (usually, heh) and there is no "back room." When I "go on break" I really and truly go downstairs and put my feet up. Because they hurt. I also usually drink a lot of Gatorade because damn do you sweat a lot up there. The point is, I am not trying to get you to buy lapdances from me or anything else. You tipping me in my tip jar is because you are enjoying my performance, you like my moves like Jagger, you are trying to make your girlfriend/boyfriend/lover jealous, whatever. It isn't going to buy you any face time with me. It sure as hell isn't going to buy you any crotch time with me.

Now for some of the older gentlemen that frequent our fair bar, this is confusing. And in some ways I sympathize. You see, up until the grand opening of this new bar there was a strip club in the very same spot. A strip club with the very same name, even. A strip club where, from what I understand, $20 when a very long way. So these guys show up from time to time, either missing the memo, or just choosing not to understand it, and they have it in their heads that it is still  a strip club.

Like the gentlemen the other night. When I get to work the first thing I hear from the bouncer, the bartender, the other dancer is that "there is a creepy man that hasn't actually done anything wrong so we can't kick him out." Awesome. Within 5 minutes of my dancing on the box I have him singled out and am watching him. Yes, he is in fact creepy. And then he tries to tip me. He starts waving money at me and I point to my jar. He shakes his head, grabs at his own chest, and says "titties." Then he tries to stuff said money down the front of my dress. I stop him. And he gets all indignent and says "fine, then i'm keeping my money" and saunters away.




Luckily for the other girl his behavior was enough to finally earn his ejection from the bar.

I think my favorite part, though, was that he was only flashing me a single dollar and he acted as though I was losing out on some great sum of money because I wouldn't let him grope me.