Stripper Style

Today is kind of an odd day--my grandmother (who lives across the country from me) is not feeling well, and thus, I have a bad feeling about the whole thing. I talked to her yesterday, and she couldn't finish sentences, faded in and out of conversation...it was bad. So today I am waiting around the house to hear from my dad who is supposed to call me and let me know if and when she is going to be admitted to the hospital. I am not stylish at all--wearing Old Navy yoga pants and a Mark Ellis A's t-shirt (and with that I say this: Suck it Dustin Pedroia. Just suck it.) Anyway, if this post comes off sounding weird, it's because I'm worried about my grandma, and am just trying to think of things to do until my dad calls me.

However, I have been wanting to write this post for a while now, and on Friday was spurred even further to action by an article I found on Jezebel. The article focuses on strippercise, which if you're a frequent reader of this blog, you know I do as my major form of excercise. In the article (just in case you want the Sparknotes version), the author talks about attending a pole dancing/strippercise class, an event that I don't think she found useful or fun. I want to provide the opposition to that. Keep in mind that I have only attended two actual classes--all the other strippercise I do is in my living room early in the morning, guided by the book The S Factor by Sheila Kelley. So while my experiences do not totally replicate the author's experience, I do know where she is coming from.

I started stripping out of nowhere really--I'm not sure where I got the idea. My husband was in Russia at the time, and I knew we were going to take a trip to Tahoe when he got back, so I wanted to unveil tricks that showed just what an independant, cool chick I was when he was not around (interestingly, I also painted my bathroom, redecorated my living room, and learned to use a drill). So I bought the Carmen Electra DVD's off Amazon (I was a bit too shy to buy them at Target) and waited. I got the DVD's in, practiced them, and perfected the routine. It was fun. The exercises were not hard, and instead of making me feel like an idiot, bouncing in her bedroom, I felt sexy. However, after he got home, and I had completed my initial performances, I got a little bored of the few routines Carmen offered me. So I ordered The S Factor, again off of Amazon (you can imagine what the books Amazon recommends to me now are like--you would think I was Jenna Jameson or something). When it first came in, I started thinking that I had probably wasted my money--this was after all, a book--not something fun and interactive that I could pop into the DVD player and allow to titillate me and teach me. I actually had to interact with it. I let it hang out on my bookshelf for a few days, and then forgot about it. It was too much work, I thought, and I would probably do it wrong anyway.

Wrong. When I pulled the book off my shelf a week or two later, I realized just what was waiting for me. The S Factor works you through all the moves, tells you what you are going to feel, and spells everything out. There is no guessing about whether you are doing something right--you know if you are from the descriptions and pictures. I remember doing it the first time, and being amazed that my hips would jut out that far. That's what this book does--it reminds you of what your body can do. You can do the moves because even though your mind doesn't understand what to do (yet), your body does. Unlike a lot of work outs I've done where the moves don't feel natural (hello, pilates), your body knows this stuff. You just have to remind your mind that it does.

But the best thing about The S Factor is that it allows you to step away from yourself. In my everyday life, I am (and always have been) a bookish, glasses wearing chick who is more Velma than Daphne, more "cute sidekick" than "bombshell main character." I am the Jenny Humphrey to the country's collective Serena Van Der Woodsen. However, when I do my exercise, I step away from that. I adopt a new persona, a persona that is not a sweet Southern girl, but an all-out bitch, who would rather stomp your heart with a 6-inch heel than read another book about Whitman's poetry. It's damn fun. And I am damn fun doing it. I put on my music, and I'm me--not the "me" that everyone expects, but a fun, dynamic side of me that is strong and unattached and above all, absolutely frickin' gorgeous.

So I would recommend doing it. You don't have to take classes, although they are fun, but definitely try it. And since this is in some ways a shopping blog, here are my recommendations for the must-haves. The book is understood, I hope.

Morgan's Must-Haves for Prospective Strippers

1. a good soundtrack. The staples for me are Back In Black (for obvious reasons) and Cold Hard Bitch by Jet, but I use other songs as I find them.

2. cotton short shorts that are a little loose so you can get them off easily. I like the Prospirit ones at Target that fold at the waist. Kind of sexy.

3. a good pair of stripper shoes. Sfactor.com actually has a good selection. I have a pair but also use my regular heels if I want to break them in.

4. supportive, sexy bras. I know this sounds slutty, but I have found some really fabu bras at Frederick's. These get the job done. I generally wear a tank top with my shorts, and I like if the bra has a little "visual interest" to peek out of my tank top.

5. A good attitude. If you can't laugh at yourself as you're doing this, you're going to hate it. You're not going to be a bombshell on the first move. But you will be. Just wait, and laugh while you do it.

6. There are actually some pretty entertaining memoirs and books by ex strippers that can give you some inside info about the industry. I especially like Candy Girl by Diablo Cody.