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Anna Undercover: "Mom, I'm Dating a Stripper"
"I'm going on a date with a stripper, mom," my boyfriend apparently said right before our first date.
She was a little shocked.
"She said she trusted my judgment," my boyfriend recalled when I asked him about it a while ago.
Soon enough, though, the day comes when a mom wants to meet her son's new girlfriend.
"Hi! Thank you for not driving me away from your son!" I chirped, giggling as I walked toward my boyfriend's mom in her rural driveway.
We hugged and went inside.
The conversation did, after a while, turn to my line of work.
"Do you like it?" she asked me.
"I love it!" I said, unable to feign an unenthusiastic attitude toward getting naked and dancing for strangers.
"Good!" she said.
"Is the money as good as they say?" she asked.
"Yes!" I said. (Well, this past couple of months, not so much, but hey).
There's a reason for her whole-hearted support, she said.
"When I needed a job in the 1960's," she said. "I looked everywhere. The library wouldn't hire me," she said.
"So I went to my local VFW hall and got hired as a cocktail waitress," she said. "I called my mother to tell her about it, and do you know what she said to me?"
"What?" I asked.
"She said 'that's a job for whores.'"
"What?!" I said.
"That's what people thought back then," she said. "Of course, they were wrong. People wanted to adopt me more than anything else."
I am so lucky!
Four bottles of wine later, the conversation was still going.
"I am such a fan of the ballet," she sighed at one point after she learned I went to ballet school for a time. "Show me a pirouette!"
I smiled, leapt to my feet, and showed her a perfect, single pirouette. She clapped and cooed.
I am so glad this is working. Secrets suck.