LJ Idol Season 8: Week 29; Gobsmacked

Little known fact: I almost skipped out on graduate school for an opportunity to be in the adult entertainment industry.

Sometimes I'm not sure I made the right choice.

No, that's not entirely true. I just made a mistake in studying for a degree that's not worth the paper my diploma is printed on.

For a short while though... I was tempted.

It all started with an interview for a waitressing position at a trendy nightclub that happened to be right next door to a strip club. In fact, I originally applied at the strip club because my fiance dared me to. Meaning for it to be nothing more than a joke, I never expected them to call. As luck would have it, they called and like any poor college student I needed a summer job. Thankfully the job wouldn't require me to take off my clothes; it was for their new nightclub instead. Without giving it a second thought, I agreed to come in for an interview.

But what kind of clothing does one wear to an interview such as this? Rules for proper interview attire likely didn’t apply for a job at a bar, did it? I wasn’t sure.

Nothing too fancy, I assumed. But it also had to be nice. I settled on a flowery sundress that probably looked too cutesy for the likes of the club, but being a poor college student also meant that my wardrobe wasn't very extensive.

I decided that it would have to do.

I’ve never felt more out of place in my entire life. The bartender told me to take a seat at one of the little tiki themed tables and wait for my name to be called. To the right of me, there were men covered in tattoos wearing their sunglasses inside the dimly lit bar. To the left? A plethora of scantily-clad girls. Closest to me was a tall, exotic looking African-American girl in shredded jeans and a camisole that displayed her flat stomach and ample chest perfectly. She was gorgeous.

Which made me wonder what in the hell I was doing there. I didn’t fit in! I wasn’t one of the beautiful people with a movie star body and designer jeans. Ironically, my floral dress which hit my knees and didn’t show even a hint of cleavage suddenly made me feel as if I’d showed up to church completely naked. I felt like all eyes were on me, laughing at the dorky girl who didn't know how to dress for a nightclub.

Part of me wanted to sneak out then and there. Maybe no one would notice? But no, I stayed hidden until my name was called, which happened after all the other girls had already left. An agonizing wait to endure, for sure.

I’ve had great interviews before, but I wouldn’t say this was one of them. I assumed it would amount to nothing more than a funny story about how I looked like an idiot interviewing for a position at a trendy nightclub. Me, the girl who was 60 pounds heavier the summer before. The girl who still felt like the elephant in the room with all the skinny girls in their designer clothes. I never expected them to call.

Of course, they called and offered me a job a couple weeks later.

First day jitters were made worse by the fact that I was surrounded by gorgeous women. Natasha, the training manager, had a thick Eastern European accent that I could listen to for hours. I loved when she said the word "thirteen", she made even such a simple phrase sound sexy as it rolled off her tongue. Coupled with her curvy body and dark hair, I knew that she was going to be hard to compete with for tips.

Then there was Ruby, a tiny Filipino girl whom all the guys loved. Ruby and I became fast friends. Married to an American solider, she had come over to the States recently. Ruby would often come up to me, panic stricken, "Kristen! What is this?!?” while holding up a shot glass or bottle of whiskey. She didn’t mean to ask what the actual object was, she knew that. She just didn’t know the English word for common bar accessories. You see, Ruby didn’t drink either. She didn't know the first thing about alcohol nor did she want to.

But she was cute, which showed me exactly what the bar's priorities were all about.

It wasn’t about knowing your alcoholic drinks or even being able to speak English. It was about looking hot in the little Hawaiian shirt that tied in a knot under our boobs, showing off our figures for the world to see.

Looking around at my co-workers, I’d often wonder, "What am I doing here?”

And then it would hit me. The owners thought I was one of them. I'd laugh out loud when I'd realize the joke was on them! Hah! I wasn't one of those girls, but somehow I managed to sneak my way in and it never ceased to amaze me that I pulled it off so well.

The job itself was like a party every night. I'd get there at 4 PM and get home at 6 am, my body aching in every possible way from being on my feet all night. It was worth it though; I was having the time of my life. Being a shy person, I’ve never been the popular, social girl. Here I was getting the sort of attention I’d only dreamt about throughout puberty, back when the only attention I received from a boy was when they tripped me or called me "ugly". All of this and I was getting paid for it; I'd hit the jackpot.

As is typical to the bar scene, every night I took my engagement ring off and pretended to be single since it helped keep the tips flowing in. At times though, I started wishing for it to be so. Shockingly, I was getting more praise and adoration from these strangers than I was from my own partner.

Being asked for your phone number came with the territory, but I could always blame company policy for keeping it to myself. Some random night, one man who was shipping out for Afghanistan the next day was more persistent than most of the others. I have to admit that he was kind of cute and seemed very nice. If I’d been single, maybe... Just maybe. But no, I wasn’t. So excuses were made as I continued waiting on him and his friends.

As the night came to a closer, his group got up to leave. He stepped over to me, placed his hand in mine with a $10 bill and whispered, "Whoever you’re with, they better know that they’re the luckiest man on Earth”.

And with that he was gone out the door and off to fight in the war. Tingly from the shock, I stood there for a moment as doubts entered my head. My relationship wasn’t great, but at the time I thought I couldn’t do any better. I'd always assumed that no man would ever have me besides the one I was to marry.

For a moment, my world shifted and I had doubts as to whether or not I was good enough for my current relationship. Or maybe I was better than the life I was signing up for if I followed through and married my fiance'. At least one person seemed to think so, even if I never caught his name and can’t remember his face.

Stupidly, I still married the boy who never regarded me as highly as the strangers in the bar had.

Temptations were brewing though. Attention. I could have attention for once in my life. Being unpopular growing up and missing the affection from my fiance', I desired nothing more than to be the center of attention. Here I was being treated as if I was gorgeous, like I was something to be desired. Men laughed at my jokes, they told me I was beautiful on a nightly basis. Even when I couldn’t believe it myself, hearing the words I never heard before started to draw me in. The offer was always on the table for "advancement” for us girls. Which meant that jobs dancing on stage next door were frequently offered up to us.

I considered forgoing graduate school and taking them up on the offer. After all, what kind of praise and admiration would I get as a dancer, on stage? I could only imagine.

However, fate had other plans. I had a wisdom tooth removed and ended up with dry socket. Excruciating, the pain lasted for weeks on end and I had to leave my job at the bar. With graduate school starting up a few weeks later, I simply decided to go that route afterall. Unlike the other girls who went on to the stage, who I’d later visit as they gave lap dances to my male friends, I went to Clemson University and received my Masters degree.

Where would I be today, I wonder? Knowing my history with eating disorders, that lifestyle most certainly wouldn’t have been a healthy one. How far would I have gone? I’d like to think not very far... But who knows? I was an attention-starved girl, not getting the validation from my relationship, from my friends, from anyone. Prostitution? Porn? God only knows. I was a much different girl back then.

It’s one of those defining moments where I know my life would be drastically different if I took "Door Number 1” instead of "Door Number 2”. I eventually made choices that enabled me to find that validation in other ways. Instead of feeling better about myself through nudity and degradation, I left the husband who didn’t give a damn about me. The rest is history.

Looking back, I’d say I made a wise choice.






(This was my entry for Week 29 of therealljidol. Honestly, I think I'm more gobsmacked that I stopped stressing about Annabelle long enough to write this. I know everyone else was stressed as well with the mid-week deadline, so why not pop on over and read some of the other great entries this week! Thanks for reading and may the Idol Gods be kind to us all!)