The Nursing Post

Multitasker Extraordinaire!

This is the nursing post.

I can nurse while doing just about anything…radio interviews, cooking, playing Chutes and Ladders, blogging…you name it and I bet I’ve nursed and done it.

And now I’ve just been spit up on while blogging! How cool is that?

The coolest part about nursing that no one talks about is how all the closet stripper moms can expose themselves legally wherever they wish. If you’ve always wondered what it’s like to bare your breasts to strangers then just become a nursing mother. Although don’t expect to make any tips.

Men can get pretty uncomfortable when they see breasts being used for something other than their pleasure. The funniest result is when a man comes up to speak to you, not realizing you’re nursing, and then does a crazy fast turnaround in embarrassment.

It never bothers me if people see me nursing, but perhaps that has something to do with my past.

I actually sometimes wish that someone would come up to me while I’m nursing in a public place to tell me to cover up. They’d wish they’d kept quiet.

“Cover up?! It’s my legal right to nurse in public! I’m feeding my child! Nourishing our future!”

Here’s to our multitasking breasts! Lovely to look at and nutritious to suck on!

Suck on!

Radio Time

In case you missed Stripper Mom’s interview today on WLW 700 am - Cincinnati, Ohio, here’s a link to the podcast.

Well, I thought it was a beautiful thing that you could hear Cole nursing in the background of the radio program today. It was pretty funny (considering I was talking about stripping) to have a baby attached to my breasts.

But it totally brings up one of my biggest points about the difficulty of being a mother AND a sexy woman at the same time. Eddie Fingers and Tracy Jones were talking afterwards about how it was “creepy” to hear Cole nursing during my interview.

Why creepy? Because it’s hard to imagine moms and sexual beings in the same thought? This is the dichotomy that mothers struggle with. We have social expectations to be a good mother, which doesn’t include being a stripper or even having been a stripper.

I’ve got news for you world—if we’re mothers, we have indeed had sex at some point!

And mothers who are strippers do indeed use their breasts for something other than as objects to be viewed.

Actually, if you want to talk about creepy and breast milk…I do remember one stripper at The Hideaway who was lactating who would put shots of breast milk into customers’ drinks. I was only eighteen and quite naïve when I saw this spectacle. I actually asked some customer at the bar, “What is she doing?!”

He thought this was quite funny.

I can’t remember if this was the same stripper who also put lit matches around her nipples and swung them around in flaming circles…

Ah, the good old days…

Stripper Mom’s Busy Day

A busy day for Stripper Mom!

I’m the featured poet on my cousin Alison’s awesome Haiku Blog…Provocative Haiku.

You know you want to read some stripper haikus!

And Stripper Mom was interviewed for a radio show airing this afternoon, WLW 700 am - Cincinatti, Ohio…3PM-6PM EDDIE FINGERS & TRACY JONES…For Mother’s Day - Eddie & Tracy support single Moms – and the strip-clubs where they work.

And you know what else? I’ve changed two diapers, nursed four times, washed one load of laundry (one more to go) and one sink full of dishes, dropped Genny off at school, and showered. Not too bad for an overtired mom.

The Thong Post

You know you’re no longer a stripper, but rather a mother, when you are getting dressed in the morning, stepping into your usual underwear choice, a thong, and your almost-five-year-old daughter says, “Mommy, you put your underwear on backwards!”

You spin your head around as she continues to say, “Your tushie! I see your tushie!”

When you tell the story to your husband, he says, “Perhaps it’s time to start wearing regular underpants.”

This freezes you in your tracks. Regular, uncomfortable, full-bottomed, granny panties? The ones you only wear when you have your monthly “visitor”? The ones that show panty lines in your jeans?

You briefly consider making the switch for sake of not wanting your young daughter to want to start wearing thongs, but then you realize, if you’re already feeling unsexy as it is, aborting g-string usage may just completely push you over the edge into wearing mom jeans and baking cookies.

So, right then and there you decide the only answer possible…you will only dress or undress out of daughter’s eyesight. When wandering the house in undies and a tee, you will give in and wear cute, low-slung boy shorts.

A compromise made…your thong is saved for another day!

Everyone’s Doing It

It’s the latest hot trend for the mom on the go: stripper pole dancing.

Britney Spears swears by it for exercise, but it seems a little freaky to want one installed in a schmaltzy hotel suite while on tour with her young sons.

"Britney loves pole dancing, it is her new favorite work out," says a source. "She gets the toning that she needs without having to hit the gym, and she wants to be able to do it in the privacy of her own hotel room."

When I first started as a stripper way back in 1989, there were no stripper poles at any of the dozen clubs I worked at in Connecticut. Imagine my surprise when I first encountered one in New York City.

“What am I supposed to do with that?” I wondered as I took to the stage.

I watched as other strippers athletically flung their bodies against the pole, rolling, flipping, and making awful thigh-smacking sounds. It was decidedly unsexy to watch. Not to mention the nasty bruises on their inner thighs.

I never became one of those gymnastic stripper pole dancers. I would just gently grasp the pole (that sounds kind of pornographic) and swing my body around it.

Another wonderful use of the pole was as a leaning device when the men weren’t tipping.

And there was a club across the street from David Letterman’s theatre that had a regular old swing. This, I liked. Once again it had nothing to do with the sexy-factor, which was again, non-existent.

When the club was slow or the customers were jerks, I would sit on the swing, close my eyes, and pump my legs (again, pornographic-sounding). My platforms’ toes would pop against the ceiling; a cool smoky breeze would rush through my hair-sprayed curls. I would forget where I was for a few brief, lovely moments.

So, before you run out and install a metal pole in your house, consider putting in the lesser-known (and less athletic) supposedly sexy strip club paraphernalia, the swing.

Better yet, just go outside and use your child’s jungle gym.

Now there’s a sexy workout for you.

Beauty Queen

Miss California USA Carrie Prejean has been quite the newsmaker.

I didn’t have such a problem with her pageant answer to how she feels about gay marriage as many others did. She spoke what she believed and I can’t blame her for being true to herself, even though I disagree with her.

But now racy photos of Prejean have surfaced and landed her in some more controversy. Her supporters will agree with the fact that they are simply modeling pictures, but her detractors are going to have a field day with an ultra-conservative Christian being photographed semi-nude.

The most ridiculous argument is that a Miss USA shouldn’t be seen in photos such as these. She has an office to uphold for young women everywhere. OK now, let’s get real. It’s not alright to appear in lingerie in some long-ago forgotten photo shoot, but it is alright to parade around in a bikini with fake breasts on national television? Somehow that’s being a good role model?

As a mother who would never be able to hide all the “racy” photos taken of her as a model over the years, I’m disgusted with the whole thing. The whole idea of female beauty as a show thing is the problem, not how much or how little of a woman’s body is shown.

Why can’t we use this whole tabloid sensational story to expose the real issues? The true question is not whether Prejean should lose her Miss California crown; the real question is why it is so important to women to be beauty queens in the first place.

The Two Pounds

Just when I think I’m totally over caring what my body looks like, I’m proven wrong.

Yesterday was a big body issue day for me. It began innocently enough when I decided to go with a pants and a shirt instead of a dress for Nick’s cousin’s baby christening. Little did I know that when I tried to squeeze my fine self into the aforementioned black slacks my body would have nothing of it.

Nothing. Of. It.

Or any of my other nice black pants. My thighs strained at the seams. My tushie was pushing at the fabric’s strength. And the zippers were all definitely screaming, “Ha, ha. That’s a good one!”

It dawned on me that I would not be wearing pants. We were already running late because Genny decided for some reason to have a problem with every dress she owns. The flowered one had “a line on it,” the purple one, which fits perfectly, was “too big,” and so on and so forth with half-a-dozen other dresses.

She went on to have a major meltdown while Cole joined in on the action. He hadn’t even had his diaper changed yet, let alone have an outfit picked out that would fit him (if you will remember, Cole is having similar body issues).

Thank goodness Nick came to the rescue, scooping up Genny and helping her find the one dress that was satisfactory, and taking Cole and changing him. This gave me five minutes to run into the bathroom to shave my legs, since I was now going to wear a dress and could not hide my Mommy hairy legs beneath slacks.

The easy part taken care of, I then had to find a dress that fit. Fortunately for me, my soft jersey, yellow dress fit fine with no embarrassing bulges or straining.

So what happened to my cool? I’ve been fine with my slight weight gain so far. It isn’t even really a weight gain; I only weigh two pounds more than what I was before I was pregnant.

It’s the squishiness factor that creeps me out. I miss being more solid. More firm. More…”me,” or more the “me” I’ve always seen myself as.

Suffice it to say, I’m sure no one at the christening thought I looked any differently than I ever have. It’s all in my mind. Well, not ALL in my mind…there is the matter of those extra two pounds.

Our Garden, Part Deux

Our garden is planted.

Genny was so looking forward to gardening until she saw how much hard work was involved. It took all day Saturday to prepare the ground: ripping out onion grass, hand tilling the soil and then realizing we should rent a rotor-tiller, which we did at Home Depot, and mixing in the fertilizer and peat moss.

This morning was all about the planting, but unfortunately Genny realized this involved dirt. She didn’t want to walk through the dirt after about half-an-hour, so she retreated to the yard.

We will see what grows.




Gardening can really bring out your issues. I was faced yesterday with all the hoeing and weeding and wanting to run away. It’s been a long time since I needed to do such hard physical labor, but I stuck with it and my body is good-sore as a result.

Tomorrow Cole and I start our first Itsy-Bitsy yoga class. I will definitely need a good stretch by then.