Stripping Competitions and One Awkward Photoshoot

Stuffed toys, pigtails and bad ideas.

Photo by mahdi chaghari on Unsplash

I’ve been quiet on here of late. My computer is currently held together with duct tape. It’s in working order, but I have to be honest, writing isn’t a fun experience at the moment. There’s a particular position it needs to be in to work (no more writing in bed) and the duct tape means there is a bit of guessing work involved to get something on the screen. I’m reluctant to replace it as I only really use my laptop for the purpose of writing on here - but we will see how frustrated I get before I cave and buy a new one!

Anyway, back to the strip club. And my calendar shoot that didn’t go quite the way I had expected…

Looking back, I was young and had a fairly fragile ego that needed to be stroked. Not much has changed (haha), although I am definitely not getting any younger!

I’d entered a stripping competition with one of the prizes being a calendar shoot. The lucky 12 girls would be featured over the calendar months in topless photos, and a cute outfit. A little glamour and the priceless prestige amongst the industry of being one of the ‘it girls’ for the year. I wanted it REALLY badly.

The first time I tried out, I absolutely bombed. I’m not really a natural performer, on stage or anywhere. I thought I had everything nailed in rehearsals after countless hours and hours of practice. My mom even hand stitched the beautiful pearl beading onto my gauze harem pants for me just so they could have a little more ‘x factor’. They were a beautiful sheer royal blue gauze with tear-away sides which meant I could rip them off dramatically mid-performance. I’d turn away from the audience, pop my butt out, pull the waistband and ‘whoosh,’ off they came, between my legs. Mom was not enthused about this task at all by the way. I think she was gritting her teeth the whole time she was stitching those beads on.

Unfortunately, even with all the prep and hyper-focus, it wasn’t my night. I was obscenely nervous on stage and my legs stopped working. I’ve had this in my dreams too, where someone is chasing me and my legs just stay stuck to the ground in fear. But this wasn’t a dream, it was real life.

I cringe thinking about it now. I was just too scared to completely put myself out there and put on a show. All those little things; the hand gestures, the head tilt, a wink to the crowd, these are the things that really make the difference between someone who’s on the stage and someone who owns the stage. You need to be over communicating all the little things to have a presence. I was just going through the motions and couldn’t deliver a compelling performance.

The second year I regrouped and tried again. This time I was more prepared for what I had to do performance wise. I copied a lot of the tricks and dance steps I had learned from the year before and incorporated them into my current set with more confidence. This time I was a mermaid in a clam shell with a beautiful iridescent (removable) tail. For my finale I had a mixture of hair gel and silver glitter which I painted in suggestive stripes all over my naked body with my hands. It looked absolutely incredible under the lights and it was relatively foolproof - my shaky hands weren’t going to affect the show! Covered in sparkles, I climbed back into my clam shell and slowly sponged myself down with water. The lights caught the droplets as they ran across my body. And the crowd loved it.

It was a bitch to get off though. I swear I was washing glitter off in the shower for the next week after.

I was so nervous waiting for the results. But, this time, I made it! Only by the slimmest of margins it turned out, with one point in it between me and the other dancer. I was ecstatic!

I can still remember the day of the calendar shoot. We were all looked after individually with a make-up/hair artist and different ‘shoot locations’ depending on the theme of your particular month. One of the girls, Brittany, was a boxer for the day, she had a really athletic physique and posed topless, with boxing gloves and short shorts on in the ring, leaning against the ropes suggestively. Another dancer, (I forget her name), had a Tarzan’s wife kind of theme, she was in scanty leopard print, long luxurious blonde hair and a commanding presence as she lounged in a fake jungle. It sounds funny but she looked really sexy, almost predatory. She had the most crystal clear blue eyes that drew you in.

I did a double take when I saw my setup for the day.

A child’s single bed and soft toys everywhere. I had my hair (blonde at the time) styled in pigtails. Tits out and a cute expression.

It felt a bit weird.

On one hand I understood the logic. I have always had more of a ‘cute’ look than a femme-fatale look, so I guess they were styling to type.
But another part of me felt a little uneasy.

It just didn’t feel ‘sexy’ to me. I couldn’t have articulated it properly back then or why it made me feel a bit icky. I just knew that I was lying on some young girl’s bed with her stuffed toys around me to signal innocence and youth, whilst in a sexual pose.

I didn’t exactly feel proud and when the issue came out I gave it a cursory glance and then never looked at it again. I didn’t even keep a copy.

Lately, with the public attention over the Epstein files and the broader conversations that have sparked around powerful men hiding behind their status and the trafficking and sexualization of young girls, I’ve found myself coming back to that shoot again. I think I understand a little bit more why I felt so uneasy.

There’s no getting around the fact that powerful men have benefited from a culture that treats youth as sexually valuable. I think we acknowledge that on some level and the same time, we’re also very good at brushing it aside and pretending it doesn’t mean anything.

My calendar shoot fed straight into that.

It was of course, all already there before I stepped onto the set that day. The costumes and the child-like themes have been around way before I got onto that bed. There are fantasies that are treated as harmless fun, and obviously fantasy doesn’t automatically become real-life behavior. But I think we are only just starting to understand the damage that can potentially come from treating certain fantasies as harmless.

For example, in the strip club the schoolgirl outfit is standard issue. The tiny tartan skirt with an even tinier shirt and tie. It’s a look that says barely legal but it’s all fun and games. “Hot for Teacher” plays and nobody blinks, in fact it’s a crowd pleaser. It’s a cheeky trope and it’s “just performance.”

I’m just a little confused on where I sit with this now.

I don’t think every man who enjoys a schoolgirl costume is a predator but I do feel from working in the club I’ve often (unwittingly) celebrated this moral grey area whilst at the same time pretending it doesn’t exist. I’ve played up to my own youth and eroticized it, viewing it as entertainment that I can make quick money from. And I didn’t even think twice about the fact that I might be bringing to life a fantasy that could turn into something uglier.

When I did that calendar shoot, I was a young woman wanting attention and a little glamour. My gut told me something was off and now I can look back and say that it felt weird because it was weird. Why the f$#k was I dressed up as a kid on a little girl’s bed.

I’m definitely not judging women who are just trying to make a living. It’s always women who get picked apart, while the demand from men that created the whole market barely gets mentioned. But I can’t really look at pigtails and childish props in a sexual setting and be comfortable with it anymore.

Some of you will think I’m being ridiculous - and maybe I am. There are so many girls making the most of their cherubic child-like features on OnlyFans for example, and pulling in incredible amounts of money that will set them up for life. And a part of me thinks that’s perfectly fine. Full power to them for using their assets to their advantage. But then another part of me thinks about the girls that aren’t strong enough to set boundaries for themselves or the girls that don’t give their permission. And that makes me feel sad.

It’s one of those things where there is no easy answer unfortunately. How can there be when these things have been baked into our cultural landscape and unquestioned for such a long time.

For me - I’ve retired the school girl outfit. But I still pull out the occasional costume from time to time.

Naughty nurse, anyone?

Thanks for reading, I look forward to continuing the conversation with you below.

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