I want to let everyone know I exist. Because my story is unique. I’ve intentionally lived my life that way. To learn things and see things in my own way.
I cant pin down the earliest date I realized the whole world was made up. But I do know that by the age of 9, Blur was my favorite band and I knew I never wanted to be a part of the rat race. Growing up is a scam. Modern life is rubbish.
When I was really little, when people would ask me what I wanted to be when I grew up, in the late 80s, before the internet and pornography, I would say, “A poser, a poledancer or a prostitute.” No one knows how I knew what those last two things were. But the videos of me asking my mom to video me constantly, prove I already knew what a poser was!
I had my first boyfriend at 3. I just always loved boys. They were so pretty. He was my best friend. In year 6 I asked out every boy at school, and every one of them said yes! In year 4 three boys in the year above would pick me up and run away with me so they could be my boyfriend. I still have the scar on my leg from when one of them dropped me over his head, off his shoulders.
I always had crushes on the boys that didn’t like me or weren’t interested in me though. The cutest, the naughtiest, the uninterested. Even pre puberty. I had a recurring dream of a boy up in a tree, in a play area, out the back of a pub. There were lots of other children playing there. But more than anything, I knew I loved the boy in the tree. Overwhelming love. But I also knew he was dead. I don’t know if he fell out the tree in the dream. But I always just knew he was dead and my heart hurt and the longing was agony.
I have never found the boy in the tree that was meant for me, and have mourned his loss since I first discovered him in the dream. No one else has meant to me what that boy could never be. Its a weird state to be in when you believe in reality. I wonder if I had a twin that died or if there was a soul out there for me that I never got to see. I feel whispers of him in the men I’ve loved the most. But I also see echos of my childhood idols and I fear the human brain and consciousness is no more than a mush of the things we’ve seen and done and that the thought that our thoughts can give us any insight into reality when we cant even comprehend what we are outside of memory suddenly just seems like absurdity.
We need to drop the mind and get into the body. Its the only way to save everybody. The only way forward for the human race is inwards. But not inwards to the brain, to the self, to the ego. But to the body. The meat and bones reality of our existence. Our function as a human animal. We need to figure out what the human animal body/mind needs to survive in the current conditions, and what are the ideal conditions for the human animal and the natural world, to mutually thrive in, and then work towards that.
We are one human animal body. All skeletons are the same. Our posture should be the same. Our muscles are all in the same places. There is a right and wrong way to use the body to do things. We aren’t even taught the fundamentals of posture. But we are all expected to live in bodies that are constantly being pressured and shaped by outside influences. The external world and our internal mental world all imprints on our bodies and there is no central guiding body on how to correct, realign, recenter, the natural human body.
I am deeply in love with my body connection story
why i want to tell the uniqueness
I say Im unique cause of the range of rare things I have done so far in my life. One unexpected journey I’ve been on is spening the last ten years doing sex work. In that time I’ve lived in London, where I worked on webcam. I instantly became successful and used my early success to travel to Australia. After a year of living in my body cause of the Aussie way of life, I started stripping in a very small town. I also worked at 3 different legal brothels with 3 – 9 months at each, some times 7 days a week for several weeks at a time, 12 hours a day. In one of the brothels the other girls stopped coming in to work cause I would get all the bookings. Even if I was busy they would wait for me. Sometimes for 4+ hours. One night I was the only girl working and I didn’t have a break all night It was my favorite time doing sex work. I felt like a queen. After work. At 3am, or 7am depending on the night, I would drive to the gym and work out for a hour or two. Do a little shopping and went back to the brothel where I slept for a few hours in one of the work rooms, till it was time to get up and get ready again. I didn’t have any problematic clients while I was there but many girls did. And I could see why. But obviously I couldn’t say anything. I would talk with the Madame when she would come in during the day and I would ask her why the other girls dont try harder. Go to the gym, buy nicer outfits, learn hair and make up. She said she didnt know but she did know she hasnt met anyone like me and wished every girl had my attitude. A life time of being bullied by girls also helped me keep my distance from other sex workers, stereotyped to be bitchy and fucked up, I knew I wouldnt be liked. I started prostitution because it had been a life time fantasy. I remember the first brothel I viewed. I was so scared it was going to be all the awful fear mongering things I had heard about. But it was the opposite. It was quirky, and clean, and organized, with rules, and structure and sweet hang out, work out and kitchen facilities for the women. In Australia brothels can only have 5 rooms. They can have more girls, in one brothel there would be 13 girls on a weekend night. Rotation rotation rotation! The office had to be organized! It was all very straight forward and honest about what it was. They sent me home with some literature and the STD book with pictures and information on all kinds of sexual health.
Ive gone off into brothel dreams. I need hours to write all about the procedures, protections and play that happened in those years. Suffice to say, it was the best environment for me. I felt like I was home. I was earning $25,000 a month, $10k weeks were normal. My body, mind, vagina were always at their healthiest when I was busy with my body all the time! I was the queen of the rooms. No matter who a man was in the waiting room, when he was in a room with me he was putty in my hands. Even if he came in with the expectation of pining me down and pumping away at me with his cock, that never happened.
Do my tricks and techniques matter here for my brief history of this only once trodden path? Or is that a separate piece that expands and links and loops from there back to here?
See in my short summary of a life worth living I have to divert at the pronouncement of my prostitution to justify and explain how that too unfolded in a way you cant even comprehend. Else the image of the person I have been wont be able to be seen. It will be hidden behind the narratives and stories in your conditioning that arent me. Only I have been me and as you are yet to see, there are chapters more to my story.
All the money I made in the prostitution trade led me live in America. I partied with Diplo and Pauly D, I went out 5 nights a week. I wore Versace every day. I had waist length platinum blonde hair, and was often seen in 7 inch heels and a onsie. Twerking in a casinos upside down, planking on the floor, i fucked Ron Jeremy to celebrate 300 partners. I hiked the Grand Canyon top to bottom 3 times. I got married in Vegas and got so badly emotionally abused it took 5 years to recover. Our wedding photo had a bum fight in the background though. So thats pretty funny.
When I started stripping I googled where the best strip club in the world was. I had already wanted to be the best prostitute in the world when I was in Aus. I found out it was considered to be Spearmint Rhino in Vegas. So after I was free of the man who destroyed me, and able to stand up for a few hours at a time, I made it my plan to be the best stripper I could be. I made it obviously. Then I found out that there was a limit for me. On what hours at the club there I could be. There was the holy grail, the main shift, the money hours, for those who excel, and looks tower. They usher you off the floor, at 9pm on the dot, no matter whos lap in which you may be grinding. A second audition is needed to prove you can be, as skinny, or sexy, or perfect as they need to stay any after that time.
Those girls would terrify me. They are racehorses. Perfect specimens of woman. It was easy to see why these were the peak shift girls.
Im not sure how long I had been there till I got up the guts to try. Weeks maybe, but its was really up to the scales to decide. 110lb and I knew my thighs weren’t too big for the managers eyes. It was time to try for the night shift.
Standing in a cold hallway in a two piece and 8 inch heels, for an hour while a line of night shift girls checked in while checking you out, knowing youre waiting to audition, knowing you’ll be competition, the man comes out. Everyone knows hes a twat. But we all smiled, were polite and pranced about. You only had to walk up and down the hallway so he can see you move from behind. Its his eye that decides if its good enough for the night. I dont like it but I got it. And as he told me I no longer cared, I was good enough, I was hot enough for the best strip club in the world and the best shift to work there!
This will be finished another time.
