The Slings and Arrows of Outrageous Opinion

The issue with creating a first blog that I am feeling quite proud of, is that I am now a little concerned that this, my second post, will be significantly worse, the entire internet will make fun of me, and I will retreat into a small, sad ball, my brief stint as a blogger a decided failure.

Lucky, then, that my time in the adult industry has given me a metaphorical skin as tough as sun-dried rhino hide, allowing me to shrug off the spears of insult, judgement and general hilarity at my career choice, and go back to munching the tall grass of post (paid) orgasm contentment.

Labored metaphors aside, this industry has, truly,  made me bulletproof. You may leave me fuming with the assumption that I must be walking around with more g-strings than brain cells, you may get me worked up into a fury defending my loving and not-at-all-absent father, but you will never insult me.

I would love to say that this is because I have spent the past seven years being worshiped and fawned over until I am incapable of believing any less-than-flattering commentary. That working in an environment that requires you to be beautiful, witty, and charming has internalized my perception of myself as such.

But sadly, the opposite is true. There is nothing that you can say to hurt me anymore, because there is nothing you can say that has not already been said. Repeatedly.

The self-hatred that an unpopular high school girl lavishes over herself pales in comparison to the years of constant and casual abuse that sex workers suffer. Our pudgy teen may berate herself for every perceived flaw, but a strip club crowd will go one further, and tear you apart for flaws that you wouldn't have found were you searching for them. Some will even point out flaws that simply do not exist! I have had many an argument over my "bad nose job" "over-collagened lips" and "obvious fake boobs" (never mind that my boobs are a B cup on a good day). For the official record, I have never had any surgical work, ever, but after a while, it gets easier to look chagrined, and listen, rapt, as the customer explains exactly how he knew, and how to choose a better surgeon next time.

I have been called ugly, fat, boring, plain, dumb, pasty, spotty, greasy, lumpy, and smelly.
I have suffered insults about my weight, height, skin color, eye color, hair color, shoe size, dress size, and bra size.
I have been accused of being a slut, whore, bitch, skank, tease, liar, cheater, thief and addict.
I have heard every possible variation, synonym, simile, metaphor for and combination of the above.

I have been insulted so many times, that I started mentally awarding points for really interesting or well-thought out insults, like the guy who told me that my skin felt like "wet, day-old dough", or that my hair looked like I had "dragged a dead animal through it. Probably one that I killed with my perfume". Those insults actually made me happier, because they were just so darned amusing!

I also enjoyed pretending not to notice the people who like to insult me in various, less direct ways - it lets them feel superior for slipping that thinly veiled jab past me, and men feeling superior are wonderfully easy to sell lap dances to. The men who tell me that they come to me because their wife is "too good a person" to give them a striptease, or that I am clearly "too good for this". Maybe they could "save me" from this terrible fate....

The female customer is a whole other ballgame - one that deserves a blog of its own. Suffice to say, women don't limit themselves to the physical, mental and behavioral flaws, but start going for the moral, religious, and political evils that we represent. There is no topic that is off-topic for them (family, sex life, husbands, children (real or imagined)). After a while, simply being told that I am no good because Joe Patron "don't like em meaty" seems infinitely preferable to a long discussion on how I am the ultimate betrayer of womanhood. Insulting men want me to go to the gym, but insulting women want me to go to the gallows.

The best part of all of this (at least in terms of becoming impervious to verbal hatred) is that I do not only listen to this, I do so with a smile! I have nodded and agreed (and made some mental grammatical corrections) while men have told me how not everyone can be smart, but at least I'm pretty. I have grinned at a comment about the size of my stomach, and replied that if I didn't have a little fat, my ass wouldn't be so damn spankable! (Followed up with a spank, just to make the point.) I have coyly smiled while spinning like a top and listened to a group of men discuss whether my boobs are big enough to be worth the price.(With a side discussion as to whether seeing the nipples might make all the difference, in case they are really ugly)

And those times where I was just too stomach-turningly hideous to make the sale, did I go home and dig into a pint of chunky monkey while my girlfriends told me that all men are jerks and that I was beautiful? Nope. I skipped off in lucite platforms to hope that the next guy over would find me slightly less repulsive.

Thankfully, I have been complimented in far more detail and depth, and with more regularity than I have been insulted. But I feel that this is an appropriate second-blog topic, because I am not a virgin to this whole internet-thing. I'm betting that I get a goodly amount of angry and insulting comments, if I keep this up. So if you decide that I am a despicable excuse for a human being, and you would really quite like to hurt my feelings via that comment box down there, just bear in mind a couple things.

1. Calling me a "whore" or any variation of that term is no more insulting than calling me a "redhead" or a "Caucasian". Or calling you a "commenter" or "blog-reader". Kiss your mother with that accurate and factual mouth?
2. Any standard, straightforward, day-to-day insults will barely register. They are white noise at this point. Don't waste your time.
3. If you really want to waste your time, put some effort in. Really, really well-crafted and ingenious insults still won't offend me, but they will amuse me, and you will look much cooler to your friends, when you tweet them your quoted comment. You go with your bad self!
4. You are competing against the guys who truly get off on upsetting women, and so have made it their life mission to go into strip clubs and cam rooms and be cruel until they get a reaction. When it comes to insults, I have gone up against Olympians, and you, dear reader, are Little League in comparison.

And most importantly of all:

5. After the first five years, I just stopped giving a fuck.