WATCH IT. SO AWESOME.
holy shit this is marvelous.
(Source: fuckingburn)
Retro Hotness.
lol wtf is going on here? so much awkward. i mean i know it’s the 80’s but come on, this is not sexy.
yeah i’m sittin around drinkin wine listening to nicki minaj and having stripper withdrawal. i’m a complex individual mmkay?
I miss putting on the makeup, the outfits, being a glamorous character that I’ve created. I love dancing, not just shaking my ass and being like “hey here’s my tits gimmie a dollar” but when I can actually get into the music and express myself and connect with the crowd. I’m shy but I love attention. I love transforming into different people.
Anyway I like to dress up in my room and dance, I don’t really get to be sexy a lot when I’m being a dirty bum and I’ve been having thoughts about going back to work. Just for a short time so I can buy some expensive stuff before we move to the mountains.
Sex work research needs to focus on money
Research into sex work is too heavily skewed towards examining the childhoods of sex workers, with questions about whether they were sexually abused as children too often being the focus. This ignores the elephant in the room: financial considerations and motivation. Most sex workers who choose to be in the industry are there for the money, not because they need the sex, writes Jo Weldon.
(via woobrenda)
this is funnier when it happens to you and you ARE a stripper. and then the old lady at denny’s says “oh, you must be a server!”
figuring out my gender
Is an confusing experience. I don’t quite know how to describe what I feel. Mostly I would say I’m a fairly effeminate boy who sometimes enjoys wearing makeup and womens’ clothing. When I’m dancing at a strip club, I’m a drag queen; an intense exaggeration of my femininity. Sometimes it’s fun to put on that persona because I love hair, makeup, and clothes, and have always loved transforming the way I look. But it’s just that, a persona. And a tool for making money.
But unlike a drag queen, when it’s all over I don’t take off my wig, pull out my fake tits, and untuck my dick so I can go back to having people see me as what I am. Which maybe isn’t always a boy but usually isn’t quite a girl.
And my body… I don’t know. I wish I could have removable tits. And I know I will never be able to afford to medically transition. At least not any time in the foreseeable future. And my female body is my tool for making money in times of need and in this shitty economy. It means I can walk into almost any strip club and be guaranteed a job on the spot where I’ll be making well over minimum wage.
I don’t know. Idon’tknowidon’tknowidon’tknow.
