You may have heard, because of the Superbowl this weekend, there is a stripper (oops, sorry make that exotic dancer) shortage in Dallas. Not just any stripper shortage, mind you, but a 10,000 plus shortage of women to shake their booty to Superbowl revelers. I know – a tragedy as big as the Lone Star State! Well, as a Texas girl (To be exact I no longer live in Texas,but once a Texas girl, always a Texas girl.)’ll be doing everything in my power help avert this crisis. What kind of Texas hospitality would it be for Superbowl guests to arrive in Dallas and experience a stripper shortage. How un-Texas like. What’s next no Shiner beer on tap? When a state’s highway motto is “Drive Friendly, The Texas Way,” and when people still greet you with “Howdy,” there is a certain expectation of extreme friendliness, and what’s friendlier than a stripper? Okay, maybe a puppy, but that’s it. This Wednesday I will be boarding a Southwest airlines jet headed straight to Big D where I will offer my services to the oxymoron that is called the “Gentleman Clubs” as a stripper.
I know what you’re thinking – “I’m not exactly stripper material” and I take no offense at that. I know I’ve shared my cankle affliction, my size 11 feet (Well, everything is bigger in Texas.) and my, shall we say, less than hot persona with you. But, does that really matter in a time of crisis? Hell no, my state needs me – hot or not and I won’t let the founding fathers of Texas – the brave, brawny Sam Houston, the super sexy Stephen F. Austin (Oh, he for sure had a smart, woodsman sexy thing going on if you don’t believe me check out his Wikipedia page and you know how he got to Texas? He rode on a steamship called the Beaver. Yup, the Beaver.) or even the great mascot of the University of Texas – Bevo down. Yes, I know I have zero experience stripping and I’ve never “worked a pole.” But, seriously how hard can it be? I’ve breast-fed one baby, while making a peanut butter sandwich for a toddler, while talking to the pediatrician on the phone, while unloading a dishwasher, while folding laundry with my mouth while opening the door with my toes to repeatedly let an incontinent dog in and out. Jeez, I think I can handle hanging sideways on a pole.
There is the nudity issue, of course and I know my body is not in outstanding shape or any kind of shape, besides flumpy (flab+lumpy), not to mention the fact that I’m not a young woman. None of this matters because I have a plan. Let’s first tackle the nudity. On any other occasion I am and would be against the whole concept of stripping and the objectification of women in general. But, I feel a state crisis of this magnitude demands a high level of sacrifice. As far as being naked in front of strangers – well, I won’t be. Never having been to a strip club I can only share what I’ve seen on T.V.’s C.S.I. and in those Vegas clubs the women are not nude. They’re in swimsuit like attire. If I can handle having to expose my swimsuit clad self at the local pool while repeatedly going off the high dive, in the demeaning, unforgiving glare of the summer sun, while hordes of smug mothers lay on their chaise lounges checking out all the other moms then I can handle the smoky, light challenged atmosphere of a strip club. Plus, we all know men are a whole lot less “judgey” about a women’s body than other women are about other women. (I hope that made sense.) Also, I’ll be wearing very high heels to help camouflage the whole non ankle thing. So, that’s nudity dealt with.
Now on to me not being the prettiest girl at the rodeo. Sure, I’m no 2010 Boo Weevil Princess runner-up and all my body parts are real (read sag). No worries because I plan to make that work for me. I’ll be the organic stripper. The one who appeals to the crunchy and severely visually impaired types. I’m the free of additives and artificial preservatives stripper and I might, to really build on the whole natural vibe, suggest to the management that I need to use an organic pole – like a cornstalk or something.
As for my imperfections. I have a lot of things working for me, dim lights, men who have been drinking too much, which, as we all know, causes male cornea shrinkage resulting in any female looking if not good, than decent. Add in a spray tan, enough Spanx and under-wire to re-float the entire lost continent of Atlantis, throw some glitter on the cellulite and spider veins (or as a I prefer to call them – nature’s tattoos) and a long blonde wig that covers my less than pert breasts and I’m good to go.
You may also be worried about the groping, the man handling if you will, that is part and parcel at a strip club. Not a problem. I’m the only woman in the history of the world that had a man, make that two men, as lactation consultants. I gave birth at a teaching hospital with what I think was a very high ratio of male nurses. The dude nurses had to rotate the hospital floors and as part of their education were required to receive training on the ob/gyn floor as lactation specialists. Imagine as a new mother, my embarrassment, my panic, my terror at having my breasts touched, lifted, squeezed and experience other assorted tactile adventures by two dudes. One, who even diagnosed me as having the “worst inverted nipple he had ever seen.” He suggested I get a custom-made nipple shield. From where I thought, “Freaks are Us Latex and More Store.” I then told both of them I was very, very, close to rendering them scrotum free in a postpartum rage if they didn’t get the hell out of my room. So you see, I have no problem with succinctly dealing with touchy touching issues. Plus, and once again, I go to my extensive C.S.I. watching, aren’t the strippers on a stage where they can’t be fondled?
Now, that I hope I’ve answered all of your questions and addressed your concerns about a middle-aged mother stripping I want to extend to all of my Texas girlfriends, you awesome Daughter’s of the Texas Republic, the offer to join me in this crucial crusade. Because I remember the Alamo. Because I love Texas, Our Texas. Because I desire with all my heart for every visitor to hail this mighty state. I will be doing my part to save the birthplace of my children from a very disagreeable hospitality crisis. Grab your Spanx and say you’re with me.
*Attention Snarky Friends, I have a brand new book out. It’s the second in the Snarky in the Suburbs series – Snarky in the Suburbs Trouble In Texas. You can buy it for your Kindle or in paperback on Amazon. It’s also available for the Nook or you can get it for your Kobo reader. Click on a link and give it a test read. I hope you like it! 🙂