I was going to the club to dance for the first time ever that Wednesday night. I was so scared. I wanted to go in a few weeks after my tonsilectomy so I’d be all super skinny, but it got pushed back until summer so Gia insisted we pop my cherry as soon as possible.
I worked out hard core all week. Hardly ate a thing for three days. I didn’t think it’d be enough. I looked at my pale skin, pudgy tummy, and tiny boobs in the mirror of the Hot Topic dressing room. Gross. I chose a fishnet top and a black and red skirt, hoping they’d hide my pudge. I was certain no guy would want a dance from me. Strippers are supposed to be svelte, tan goddesses, right? Ha, baby strippers are so naive.
Two years later…
Ares and I had the munchies so we went to Dairy Queen, bought an entire ice cream cake, and brought it back to the club. We sat in the dressing room, not even bothering to slice it. The DJ announced me, “and now, my long lean lovely! Twisted!!”
New Girl: You’re eating all of that right before you go on stage?
Ares: We don’t give a fuck!
Me: It’s not like men notice anyway. All they see is hair, neon bikinis, and boobs. You’d have to be borderline obese for them to notice you aren’t skinny.
True story. More often than not, the only thing a guy notices is “hot.” And guys think pretty much anything female is hot.