Work
It Baby.
I
can use a lot of words to describe myself but sexy just
ain’t one of ‘em. Now I’m not saying that
I’m attractive, but thinking you’re attractive
and thinking that you’re sexy are two completely different
things. I am not the type of woman who can turn someone’s
head just by walking into a room, but believe me I’ve
always wanted to be. I’ve always wanted to be that
woman who could toss her hair and smile seductively and
still be taken seriously by everyone around her; I’ve
also always wanted to be the woman who could exude that
rare mixture of sexual confidence and sensual awareness
without coming across as being trashy or slutty. I’ve
always wondered what it be like to walk into a room and
know that all eyes were on me; I’ve always wanted to
make an entrance like that. I don’t want to sound like
I’m being narcissistic but just once I want to know
what it would feel like to be the center of attention.
Well
I got my wish. Sort of. And I got it in a way that I would
never have imagined. My Fairy Godmother finally appeared
and she was going to grant my wish, but she looked nothing
like I expected her to. Instead of the plump, grandmotherly
Fairy Godmother that everyone knows, my Fairy Godmother
turned out to be conducting a Strip Aerobics class at the
gym and who just happened to be a flame haired voluptuous
exotic dancer in six inch Fuck Me boots. Yes, you heard
right. Yours Truly found herself in a room full of women
of all shapes and sizes and who were all waiting to be taught
how to be sexy. What followed was eye opening to say the
least, for one hour we strutted, pulsed and pumped our bodies
without caring who was watching or what they were thinking.
I came out of that class feeling so alive and vibrant and,
yes, sexy that I couldn’t stop the smile from spreading
across my face.
Unfortunately
that exuberance didn’t last long. When I told other
members of the gym what I had just experienced I was met
with looks of disgust and strangely enough ninety percent
of those looks came from men. I was met with comments like
‘doesn’t it bother you that you’re endorsing
prostitution?’ and ‘exotic dancer is just another
term for hooker’. One man even said that women taking
a Strip Aerobics class was ridiculous because ‘strippers
only exist to please men. In order for that class to be
successful you have to have men in there.’ In essence
what this man was saying was that women feeling sexy in
the presence of other women is pointless and that they should
only feel sexy in the presence of men. And why is it that
exotic dancers are always labeled with the hooker tag? Admittedly
there are some women out there prostituting themselves while
they dance but not this woman. This woman danced for the
sheer joy of it. This woman wanted to teach us the joy of
being sensual and carefree and for me it was exactly the
medicine that I needed. I needed to feel sensual for myself,
for my self-confidence and for the good of my soul and I
didn’t need a man to be in the room to experience that.
What
made me angry was the fact that the men were clambering
at the door to come in and gawk at ‘the stripper’
like she was some sort of sideshow freak. They didn’t
see her as we saw her, they saw tits and ass; they saw a
woman willing to give them a lap dance if they paid her
enough. They saw an object and not a person. When she was
asked by one of the other women how she dealt with that
kind of attention, she answered ‘I don’t shake
it for them. I shake it for me.’
I’m
not going to quit my day job and become an exotic dancer
by any means, but I am going to allow myself the freedom
to explore it more fully. I’m not co-ordinated and
I’m certainly no dancer but in that room in front of
those women I was one sexy bytch and I’m gonna keep
on shakin’ it as long as I can.
he