Part-time stripper

There’s music in the background. A light thumping sound and a bassline. It’s enough to make anyone move their bodies… so I accept the invitation.

Due to the small space, the moves are nothing if not restricting. There are reaches, arms moving up and down, side to side, squats and lunges, forward and back. I have to do the best I can with what I have.

Out of nowhere, I hear something that breaks my concentration.

“Take it off!”

The three most disconcerting words for anyone to hear, especially when they’re coming from that said person’s mother. A small shiver runs up my spine.

As I continue, more and more people come to see what's going on. They're my mother’s friends. She begins to tell them how well I’m doing and how I should do it more often. Apparently, I'm good.

“I wish my husband could do that,” says one.

“My kid doesn’t have the talent,” says another.

“Can your son come over to my house and do the same thing?” asks a third.

Suddenly, my mother is a pimp and I’m her whore.

When I’m done (and a few numbers are exchanged), I’m spent. My muscles hurt, top to bottom, and my body is covered with a layer of sweat. This is something I don’t plan on doing on a regular basis... especially with this audience.

Note: For a booking, please contact my mother.