Her thin blond hair was twisted into a limp ponytail as she shimmied around the bar counter with obvious bags under her eyes. Her bony frame made her look sunken, but her head was raised high with a flirtatious smile pasted on her lips. The music was sultry, aiding in the dancers on stage. Men lined the sides, tossing generous amounts of money onto the stage and into the women's suits. The woman with the long ponytail leaned against the bar casually, with her sparkly blue lingerie twinkling with the dimmed pink lights as they spun. She was given several drinks by different men, but she only took the one with a cap still on it. It was cool against her throat, and she held it against her pale skin so her sweat could subside. Her smile then faltered slightly. Just for a moment.
She knew what was coming.
She gracefully placed the chilled beer back onto the counter, and just as she shimmied around the bar, she twisted into the bathroom. As she closed the door, she checked to make sure no one was in the bathroom so she could lock the door. She then walked over to the bathroom mirror, staring at her now yellow skin due to the cheap lighting. The lights flickered every so often due to the expense of the stage, and the lighting in the bathroom didn't make anyone look the least bit attractive.
As she studied herself in the mirror, she felt bile rise in her throat as to what she was wearing. The blue bikini like outfit had many long fringes on it, making it look almost cow girl like. She bared her teeth as she leaned into her made-up face. Thick foundation and bright blue eyeshadow made her look more like a doll than a human. And the bones that showed disgusted her. A few wrinkles creased by her eyes and mouth, showing signs that she was ageing. That also disgusted her. In a few years, men wouldn't want her. And if they didn't want her, then she couldn't feed her son.
Who was going to be disgusted by her.
And then, what she was waiting for came. The tears. The sudden feeling of sadness that crept up on her at the oddest of times. She stood by the sink crying silently for a long time. Until someone knocked on the door to wake her up. She dabbed her eyes as she stared confidently in the mirror, and adjusting her bra, she twirled out of the bathroom back onto the stage.
It didn't bother her, the attention she got. What bothered her was who was giving her attention. She could blatantly see pudgy men staring intently, and it gave her chills to know that when they go home they'd be jerking while thinking of her. That bothered her. It wasn't difficult to find a man willing to sleep with her for money after her shows. It was hard to leave their place with a sense of dignity. It was hard coming home in a wreck of an apartment to her son. Who was old enough to know what she was doing by now. To tell his friends she's a whore. A slut. A hooker. But he didn't know that she was doing it for him. So he could live. Even if it meant to sacrifice her own life.
And so she danced on the stage, accepting the coos and caws given from the men. And none of them would see her cry when it felt like everything inside of her was being torn apart. Because this was her life. And even if she wasn't living, her son was.
No comments:
Post a Comment