I’ve always been a little curious about what being a stripper, I mean dancer, involves, exactly. If you’re at all interested, you should read Ruth Fowler’s account of how she came to New York from the U.K. and began stripping because she wasn’t making enough to survive as a waitress (plus she was in the States illegally and didn’t have many options, job-wise). She wore clear plastic heals, learned that dancers love their dogs, and even dated a guy she met at work — it didn’t work out, though. He didn’t want her to take off her intense stage makeup. [The Observer, U.K.]
