Sassy by name, Sassy by nature, I write to explode the myths which surround the lapdancing profession - standing up for the clubs, the girls and the customers. Its not always drinking champagne and playing with my tits - it can be hassle, hustling and hangovers. At heart I'm just a regular twenty-something posh cockney living in London who likes taking her clothes off...
Resolution’s – when one makes a series of promises to oneself, in order that they can become a better person.
I have two sets of new Year’s resolutions this year. Real life and Lap-dancer life. Guess which life these are for;
- flexibility! I feel like a creaking, crunking, calamity-waiting-to-happen. I totally ignored any fitness regime last winter, figuring that if I danced enough shifts in the run-up to Christmas I’d stay in shape. Of course I did – my tummy stayed nice and flat, and the orange peel stayed on the log fire, not my thighs. But it does mean that you are only flexing certain parts, so they get tired, whilst the rest of you seizes up. Sure I am a teeny weeny size 8, but I can’t touch my toes anymore or spread my legs wide enough to look like I’m showing off. I’m going to hit yoga until I can once again lick my own leg. Lick it!
- Whiten those teeth! For an English chick, my teeth aren’t too bad. Year’s of wearing traintracks in high school have left them nice and straight. But the years since then haven’t been quite so kind. I smoke (especially when pissed), I’ve been on more 3 day benders than I can possibly remember, & I have a 5 bottles a week red wine habit. My pearly-whites ain’t so pearly anymore. I need to channel the Pearl-ay Queen’s orf Sarf n East End Lunden, innit, for super shiny gnasher’s. This is the year when I bleach my teeth as well as my hair….