February 2005 to October 2007, Michigan

By Natalie M.
Once I was free from the marriage, I had nothing to fall back on.

I was self-educated but had no academic validation. I had given birth to three children but bore none of the physical “scars” of birthing.

Being a stay-at-home mother for 10 years and then leading my children through this difficult transition by getting a minimum wage, 40-hour-a-week job was not an option. Luckily, I was always healthy, worked out, and had an aesthetically pleasing appearance.

I decided that my most advantageous choice was to become a stripper.

By taking this job, I would be able to make enough money to pay my bills and work two to three days on the weekend. If some sort of emergency came up, I had the freedom to set my own schedule or call off for the night.

The pleasing surprise was that I ended up making enough money to do the things I was not afforded in my marriage: going to college, taking my children on vacations, and traveling on my own.

At first, I thought I would lose custody of my children if anyone found out, especially my ex. I told everyone I was working as a waitress on the weekends while the children were with their father.

Strippers never use their real name, so on the weekends, I was “Natalie.” I didn’t want one of the typical names, like Star or Destiny or Fantasia. I wasn’t the typical stripper, and it worked well in my favor.

I had read philosophy since the age of 15 and was living between existentialism and Buddhism (the latter eventually winning tenure).

Although I had not yet gone to college, my eccentric knowledge was always a welcoming surprise to most customers (though there were the men who didn’t come to a strip bar to hear a girl talk). Since I wore glasses, I was called the teacher, the librarian, the student, or the secretary. I filled every role divinely.

During my marriage, I was not permitted to go to bars. When I did go out with my friends, I paid dearly with guilt trips and cold-shoulder responses. Now I worked in a club where I got to dance - I always loved dancing - and have my drinks and dinners bought for me.

I had customers who did nothing more but pay me for my conversation, and I had other “regulars” who made me earn every bit of my money by grinding on them back in the couch room. Being a stripper was exhilarating.

I traveled to France, Italy, and Spain first. I took my children to Niagara Falls, to special theme park vacations, to the homes of distant family, and to Yosemite National Park. I went back to college to get a degree in writing. I paid off my car and my credit cards. I had finally found my freedom in the most unlikely of vocations.

Most girls I worked with were not on this path. They danced to live day to day. They didn’t care for college, and they planned on hustling as long as their bodies and face permitted.

Amazingly, I saw women dance who were close to my mother’s age. While I was stripping, I saw everything from fake boobs to flat chests, skinny to robust body shapes, medically insane and drugged-out to beautifully intelligent. The majority of strippers I worked with were not aware of their options and did the job with a feeling of resentment.

My effectiveness of being a dancer relied on not doing drugs or drinking heavily, and having a plan to get out of it within a few years. That type of money can be addictive, and one has to have a better option to work toward to get out of it.

Occasionally, a guy or couple I went to high school with would come into the club. I usually panicked and had the DJ skip me on stage rotation while I sat back in the dressing room.

Once, a third-grade teacher from my children’s school came in. She was trashed and lifting her shirt to show her breasts to some couple she had come in with. The funny thing is that she was so drunk, she never even noticed me.

Another time, a girl whose boyfriend had cheated on her with me, 11 years previously, walked in while I was on stage and came up and tipped me a dollar. I was totally freaking out on the inside, but because of the lapse in time, she didn’t recognize me anymore and probably never thought I would be a stripper.

I was eventually caught by my ex. He was suspicious and came to the bar to find me one night. I hid in the bathroom, and he never saw me in the club, but he did recognize my car and confronted me the next day.

At first, he said he would take the children away from me, and I panicked. What I hadn’t thought about was that my job was legal. I did it on the weekends while the children were with their father, so it had no influence in their life.

My lawyer and the divorce judge never questioned once what I was doing because I explained my reasons and my plan. It was legal employment, and I didn’t regret using it as a vehicle to the better life I was creating for myself and my children. It was invaluable to be able to stay at home on the weekdays with my children.

The only thing I have to think about now is when and how I will tell them, when they grow up.

Natalie M. is a writer and aspiring biographer.

Posted by Common Ties on Monday, January 28th, 2008 | Email This Post

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