http://stripperanon.wordpress.com/2013/08/20/congratulations-youre-having-a-stripper/

This is the start to stories of a stripper. Starting at the summary.

After three years of being an exotic dancer or what's more commonly known as a stripper, I realized that 99% of girls in the club have the same basic childhood. It took me several years to become aware that my past was no different from the self-assessed statistic, despite all my denial. The basic parenting structure that creates the perfect stripper is usually an absent or unaware father coupled with a controlling /psychotic mother figure. From my experience more strippers are either molested at a young age or exploited sexually as an adult whereby creating a numb force field against damaging daily advances. In addition self-esteem issues usually get worse the more beautiful the girl.

Now that the basic outline of the perfect exotic dancer is clear, you will see how this fits brilliantly into my parents' molding of their ‘dancing' daughter. I was born the summer of 1990 to the mismatched personalities of two 18 year old children just exiting high school. My mother a petite red headed cheerleader, who has good grades and mainstream values. Almost having a picture perfect life my mom still had a father with another family and an emotionally crippled mother which caused damage. She fell in love with the marijuana smoking handsome high school football player in chemistry class. My father was smart and tall despite his partying ways that made him even more attractive to my mom. His upbringing was with a single wild mom that acted more like a friend in later years. When they found out that they were having a child my mother went down to the abortion clinic to make an appointment. After promptly canceling her date with the doctor she knew I was coming and she wasn't turning back.

Grandma T (my mother's mum) , was a bit of a spit fire so as soon as the young parents to be started fighting she moved her daughter and 2 year old grandchild to a small town in Nevada for more support whereby my father quickly followed. Away from home and in another state, a new baby will inevitably start tension in a budding young relationship; this was no exception with my parents. After much fighting and bickering, my mother and father soon broke up and my dad made his way back to California leaving his illegitimate family behind.

As with any typical strippers story, at least one person has to be addicted to drugs; I started realizing my dad's addiction at a very young age. To this day I am still unsure which amphetamine based substance was his favorite. So as typical dysfunctional family stories go I talked to him twice a year on average for 20 years of my life. My mother on the other hand started her own her small business despite the complete lack of business sense. While making a very small living she did her best to raise myself and my smaller brother that she had by another man.

This is where the emotional descent into stripper-dom begins. At 5 feet tall weighing 90 lbs. my mum was bubbly and seemingly innocent becoming everyone's favorite person in our small town. Her smile covered severe emotional traumas and passive aggressive coping tactics that would later result into her early midlife crisis and horrific child-raising. She is by nature a free spirit, to a fault and that caused her tension while learning how to parent. Always secretly resenting my brother and me; that's what her eyes seemed to exude which eventually would be verbalized. The split feeling between love and hate for her children slowly drove her to begin drinking and smoking more than ever in her life over a period of 10 years. In the starting years my mother would leave a half a beer in the refrigerator for weeks before finishing it. As time wore on her issues began worsening along with her alcohol abuse. By the time I had my first serious boyfriend my mom had seemingly gone off the deep end. As a 15 year old girl I began getting verbally abused by my mother daily with comments like ‘you're a whore and I know you're having sex', despite the fact that I wasn't. This abuse was sparked from what I believe was my mom's way of trying to keep me from making her mistake of getting pregnant. As my mom's burden of her failing life and my changing body she went from half a beer to a couple of pints of vodka every weekend. As time passed and tensions got worse my mother eventually called me and told me that I have no place to stay with her. Alone and needy I moved into my boyfriend's loving moms house.

My boyfriend's mother soon became the mother I never had. As a recovering heroin addict from Long Beach California, she was strong, outspoken, and always stood by family which was something that I had never seen before. Right or wrong his mother was there for me and would kill for her children as well. I lived with my boyfriend for a year and a half, working, going to school and selling weed to make ends meet living without my actual parents. Overall I did well considering what I had. My grades in high school after leaving my mother's shot up from D's to A's (which was astounding considering my extensive marijuana addiction). As time went on and I became closer to graduation my naive distant family slowly started to acknowledge the problems in my mother's life and the accomplishments in mine. With that I was invited to California to live and go to school at my great grandmother's house. With a logical but heavy heart I packed up with tears in my eyes and drove the 8 hours south.

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