I regret tearing my « stripper days » pictures up - the ones I used to sell myself as Feature material lol. They were hot! I got all « puritanical » on myself when I became a wife to a man who did not oooh and aaaah at my photo album and did it to placate him and the part of myself that agreed with him. 😩good for you Andrea! Keep it coming! All of it!
Oh, Carla. It’s such a common story for us. The shame comes from without not within. That feature dancer is still in you — I had the pleasure of meeting her, or rather, you introduced her to me. I was in total awe! I remember being bowled over by your shine. To think of you hustling on the strip club floor — whew! Romantically, so many of us diminish ourselves and call it love. We deserve so much better. People who love and do not fear our light.❣️
Thanks Andrea and I forgot to mention that a big part of the regret is indeed that now that I’m nearing sixty and never get a learing look except from octogenerians much less a cat call (saddly these demeaning acknowledgements were what I went on to know “had it”)I would love to revisit my pert butt in a g-string, my flirty pose in a baby doll and my sexy legs posing as a foreign spy lol!
Oh Andrea, I LOVE your writing and the 180 that this piece does. I also love your voice. Most of all, it's great that the smarts and talent of both the writing and voice goes with that beautiful body which is all over the internet! Congrats! Have a great "Butthole Friday!"
I've shared this with a friend/old colleague who asked me for help setting up her OF. She's Lebanese and lives in Dubai and was terrified of getting caught. And now even though she's had little success and has stopped making content, she still loved the courage she had to go through with the venture.
I wished I had hit play from the start..! (I was afraid that might be like the auto readers on Apple News etc that have an AI tinge)
Reading your own writing is an art & a thrill .. b hole rolling in almost the first sentence > iconic!
> required reading if you’re considering an OnlyFans <
Btwn my analog gay friends on fans and exploring alternative services that claim to be “better” and the newly beta “more instagramish” Patreon discovery engine announced in Oct called “Quips” (which I couldn’t even figure out how to post on) and your experience Andrea… not sure there’s a place online for my size 18 feet!
Well written - and read! Hearing your lively narration definitely takes me back. I'm glad there were some positives to come from that era. I certainly have plenty of fond memories from that time - and I totally subbed to your OF for the stories by the way! :D
Yes yes yes! "One day, when I am paid a living wage as an artist and I don’t have to be a sex worker at all, I will continue to be connected to a worldwide network of beautiful people..." I stopped stripping 12 years ago but I will ALWAYS be a stripper at heart, and always be connected to my stripping-siblings. It's an amazing community of amazing humans. Thank you for expressing this.
YES!! Once you cross that line, you’re in the club forever. Sex work is like Hotel California: “You can check out anytime you like, but you can never leave.” Escape is futile. Better to embrace ourselves and our shared experience of this ancient occupation and use it to uplift each other. I love that you’ll always be a stripper at heart, no matter how distant the job is in the rearview mirror. She’ll always be with you.🌹
When I meet with my special group of fellow ex strippers-who-did-it-for-years-and-loved-it, we still address each other by our stage names. We are mostly in our 50s and 60s now. One accidentally addressed another by her ‘real’ name last time and there was comedy horror! We all do treasure this special space where our stripper selves are still seen.
That is incredible!!! We love to see it! There is so much sacred magic in those names that our real names become taboo. I totally get it. When someone says my real name at the club it always feels like a violation, even if it’s an accident. I’m not trying to bridge worlds here… respect that!
I was in the industry for over a decade, and when I left, it felt as though a part of me died too. While I do carry regret, especially knowing my body and face remain online, and that those images were later weaponized by abusive partners, I also look back at those photographs with tenderness. I love that version of myself.
If only she had known how beautiful she was. How quickly time would pass. How she would one day miss that strange, unspoken sisterhood, and feel gratitude for the lessons it gave her. In many ways, it was the most intense education life could offer despite what society, and even partners, tried to convince her of: that she should be ashamed of her past, that she needed rescuing.
Thank you, Andrea, for sharing this so openly. Your words are deeply healing. They remind so many of us that our past selves deserve compassion, reverence, adoration and love not erasure.
I moved to a city in my 20s, I met a lot of kinky fun people. We were all part of a nude sharing group.
I became accustomed to seeing my barista’s butt hole occasionally on my phone. We were creative and silly and full of life. Of course everyone was going to share nudes.
When visiting my married sister I told her about the group. She looked horrified. I explained that in the future nudes will mean nothing because everyone has them.
And we can’t really hold onto this Puritanical bullshit much longer can we?
“ well I don’t” she said. And cautioned me against going any further into the lifestyle.
The group got shut down, I moved out of the city. Every once in a while, my sexy photos appear in the “memories” carousel. I feel a mixture of delight and shame. Shame because I didn’t stay the same size and shape, As if my sexuality is only applicable if I remain frozen in time.
Delight because I asked for what I wanted and I got it, and then some!
Delight because of my cheeky smile, all the lessons I had yet to learn.
I’m sexualized less and less now. Some days it’s a relief. Some days it’s infuriating. I don’t take pictures often. I look in the mirror when I’m ovulating. I know my baristas moon sign, but I’ve never seen his butthole.
I regret tearing my « stripper days » pictures up - the ones I used to sell myself as Feature material lol. They were hot! I got all « puritanical » on myself when I became a wife to a man who did not oooh and aaaah at my photo album and did it to placate him and the part of myself that agreed with him. 😩good for you Andrea! Keep it coming! All of it!
Oh, Carla. It’s such a common story for us. The shame comes from without not within. That feature dancer is still in you — I had the pleasure of meeting her, or rather, you introduced her to me. I was in total awe! I remember being bowled over by your shine. To think of you hustling on the strip club floor — whew! Romantically, so many of us diminish ourselves and call it love. We deserve so much better. People who love and do not fear our light.❣️
Thanks Andrea and I forgot to mention that a big part of the regret is indeed that now that I’m nearing sixty and never get a learing look except from octogenerians much less a cat call (saddly these demeaning acknowledgements were what I went on to know “had it”)I would love to revisit my pert butt in a g-string, my flirty pose in a baby doll and my sexy legs posing as a foreign spy lol!
Oh Andrea, I LOVE your writing and the 180 that this piece does. I also love your voice. Most of all, it's great that the smarts and talent of both the writing and voice goes with that beautiful body which is all over the internet! Congrats! Have a great "Butthole Friday!"
Thank you for the kind words, Lola! And a happy Butthole Friday to you, as well. 😎🎩
I've shared this with a friend/old colleague who asked me for help setting up her OF. She's Lebanese and lives in Dubai and was terrified of getting caught. And now even though she's had little success and has stopped making content, she still loved the courage she had to go through with the venture.
absolutely! what about all the GOOD THINGS!!
I wished I had hit play from the start..! (I was afraid that might be like the auto readers on Apple News etc that have an AI tinge)
Reading your own writing is an art & a thrill .. b hole rolling in almost the first sentence > iconic!
> required reading if you’re considering an OnlyFans <
Btwn my analog gay friends on fans and exploring alternative services that claim to be “better” and the newly beta “more instagramish” Patreon discovery engine announced in Oct called “Quips” (which I couldn’t even figure out how to post on) and your experience Andrea… not sure there’s a place online for my size 18 feet!
Well written - and read! Hearing your lively narration definitely takes me back. I'm glad there were some positives to come from that era. I certainly have plenty of fond memories from that time - and I totally subbed to your OF for the stories by the way! :D
Yes yes yes! "One day, when I am paid a living wage as an artist and I don’t have to be a sex worker at all, I will continue to be connected to a worldwide network of beautiful people..." I stopped stripping 12 years ago but I will ALWAYS be a stripper at heart, and always be connected to my stripping-siblings. It's an amazing community of amazing humans. Thank you for expressing this.
YES!! Once you cross that line, you’re in the club forever. Sex work is like Hotel California: “You can check out anytime you like, but you can never leave.” Escape is futile. Better to embrace ourselves and our shared experience of this ancient occupation and use it to uplift each other. I love that you’ll always be a stripper at heart, no matter how distant the job is in the rearview mirror. She’ll always be with you.🌹
When I meet with my special group of fellow ex strippers-who-did-it-for-years-and-loved-it, we still address each other by our stage names. We are mostly in our 50s and 60s now. One accidentally addressed another by her ‘real’ name last time and there was comedy horror! We all do treasure this special space where our stripper selves are still seen.
That is incredible!!! We love to see it! There is so much sacred magic in those names that our real names become taboo. I totally get it. When someone says my real name at the club it always feels like a violation, even if it’s an accident. I’m not trying to bridge worlds here… respect that!
Well this brought tears to my eyes. Beautifully written, thank you.
xoxox, a fellow trying-to-make-a-living-wage-as-an-artist SWer <3
I’m so glad it resonated — I wrote it for us. Thank you for reading.🌹
A good article to go with that great attitude. 👍
Thank you for reading. 🌹
This moved me to tears. But also made me smile. 💜
I was in the industry for over a decade, and when I left, it felt as though a part of me died too. While I do carry regret, especially knowing my body and face remain online, and that those images were later weaponized by abusive partners, I also look back at those photographs with tenderness. I love that version of myself.
If only she had known how beautiful she was. How quickly time would pass. How she would one day miss that strange, unspoken sisterhood, and feel gratitude for the lessons it gave her. In many ways, it was the most intense education life could offer despite what society, and even partners, tried to convince her of: that she should be ashamed of her past, that she needed rescuing.
Thank you, Andrea, for sharing this so openly. Your words are deeply healing. They remind so many of us that our past selves deserve compassion, reverence, adoration and love not erasure.
I moved to a city in my 20s, I met a lot of kinky fun people. We were all part of a nude sharing group.
I became accustomed to seeing my barista’s butt hole occasionally on my phone. We were creative and silly and full of life. Of course everyone was going to share nudes.
When visiting my married sister I told her about the group. She looked horrified. I explained that in the future nudes will mean nothing because everyone has them.
And we can’t really hold onto this Puritanical bullshit much longer can we?
“ well I don’t” she said. And cautioned me against going any further into the lifestyle.
The group got shut down, I moved out of the city. Every once in a while, my sexy photos appear in the “memories” carousel. I feel a mixture of delight and shame. Shame because I didn’t stay the same size and shape, As if my sexuality is only applicable if I remain frozen in time.
Delight because I asked for what I wanted and I got it, and then some!
Delight because of my cheeky smile, all the lessons I had yet to learn.
I’m sexualized less and less now. Some days it’s a relief. Some days it’s infuriating. I don’t take pictures often. I look in the mirror when I’m ovulating. I know my baristas moon sign, but I’ve never seen his butthole.
I feel you I feel you I feeeel you. Thanks for your honest reflection. Long live the glorious art you made with your body mind spirit and sexuality!