Written by Olive Pepper

Sunday, 5 September 2010


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image for Here's an idea: Let's Watch a Stripper Get Dressed Above all else, I'm a disciplined shopper

I know I can get you riled up by taking my clothes off, one silky piece at a time, slowly but with a purpose. Now I'd like to see you get hot and bothered while I put them back on. Because I spent a long time picking out these clothes. I didn't just go to Macy's and grab the first thing that fit me; I looked at hundreds of pieces, in several different departments, before I found just what to take off in front of you. Is it too much to ask to give these pieces their time in the spotlight?

The fact is, we all pretty much look the same with our clothes off. I mean, we might as well acknowledge that upfront. Sure, someone might have bigger, more round hips than another, and someone might have less belly fat. At the same time, someone's skin might be more pallid than another's, just like someone might have a mole, like, somewhere on her thigh.

But in the heat of the moment, especially when your face is, like, two inches from one another, do these little differences matter all that much? I doubt it. And don't even mention what women's bodies look like at a strip club. With orange lights over here and pink lights over there, and the men already half asleep by the time they get their fourth beer, does anyone really notice the finer differences between one woman's body and another? I don't think so. That's why I think it's time for someone to slip a $20 bill into the elastic band of my stocking for putting my little dress back on, rather than taking it off.

When you get right down to it, much of the "me" that I put into my dance routine comes not from my body stripped of all its clothes but in the attention I pay to what I put on before I take them off.

I like to think that when you slip me that $20, you're showing your appreciation for all the little things I did to get you roused up: the minutes I spent deciding whether the pattern on this elastic band of these stockings is prettier than on the elastic band of those stockings, or whether I should come out in a silky pink thong or a satiny blue one.

It seems like it's a shame to spend so much of me in that decision-making only to have the things whipped off in a matter of minutes. Especially when you consider that they're the stars of the show, not me. Yes, it's true. If I were to come out already nude, you'd be like, "bor-ing." But because I come out in clothes, you're all whoopin' and hollerin'. And when I start tugging on my underwear like I'm going to remove them but keep them on at the last minute, you're gettin' all worked up. That tells me you like the clothes on. So, that's why I say, I think the time has come for us dancers to let the spotlight shine on the deserving party in this type of entertainment: the clothes.

The story above is a satire or parody. It is entirely fictitious.

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