- Points
- 0
I feel EXTREMELY embarrassed to admit that I read the following article in "Woman's Day" 
Anyway. embarrassment aside, an interesting point came out of the article and that is W/L's still seem to be leading a "double life" in that they don't admit to family and friends what work they really do.
I thought this was quite disappointing particularly in a pretty broad minded society like ours where a lot of the old "taboos" have been readily accepted as the "norm".
So, is this article a fair reflection of the "stigma" attached to those working in the industry????
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No one at uni knows my secret. At night, after lectures, I go to work as a prostitute in a St Kilda brothel. It started three years ago in my first year. I had arrived from a country town with only $200 in the bank. I desperately needed cash. I got a job at a supermarket but my wages barely covered my rent. I couldn't work more hours because of classes and all the other jobs I applied for paid the same amount. The hours I did get were at night or weekends so I had no social life and I always felt tired. Consequently, I was always running late for early classes. One morning after sleeping in, I burst into tears when the lecturer singled me out as I tried to sneak into class. The girl sitting next to me consoled me. After the lecture, she asked me why I was always late and I told her. She smiled knowingly. "There is another way to earn money," she said. "Lots of money." That piqued my interest. The girl, Nicole, was always dressed in the latest fashions with an expensive manicure and accessories. I had assumed her parents were rich but she said she paid for everything herself. When I pressed her further, she told me she was a hooker. She worked in a clean, safe brothel and could get me an introduction with the owner. It all happened quickly after that. After a rather degrading "interview" in which I had to parade before the Madam in my underwear and answer all sorts of questions about my sex life, I was hired. Ever since, I've worked in the brothel three nights a week. I earn ten times what I did at the supermarket, for much less effort. And it's not as bad as I thought it would be. My regular clients treat me with respect and I'm never forced to do anything I don't feel comfortable doing. The hardest part is lying to my family and friends about where the money is coming from. They all assume I got a promotion at the supermarket but my mother grew suspicious when she dropped in one day and was told I no longer worked there. I told her she must have spoken to one of the newer employees who didn't know me. I felt awful and I never want to have to do that again. Thankfully I graduate this year so I can get a real job, something I can tell everyone about and be proud of. Although I don't have a boyfriend at the moment, there is a guy at uni who is showing some interest. If things get serious, do I tell him the truth? I'm scared that it might disgust him. On the other hand, if I tell him and he still wants to see me, then I'll know he's worth keeping. It's a decision I'll make when the time comes.
Anyway. embarrassment aside, an interesting point came out of the article and that is W/L's still seem to be leading a "double life" in that they don't admit to family and friends what work they really do.
I thought this was quite disappointing particularly in a pretty broad minded society like ours where a lot of the old "taboos" have been readily accepted as the "norm".
So, is this article a fair reflection of the "stigma" attached to those working in the industry????
____________________________________________________________________
No one at uni knows my secret. At night, after lectures, I go to work as a prostitute in a St Kilda brothel. It started three years ago in my first year. I had arrived from a country town with only $200 in the bank. I desperately needed cash. I got a job at a supermarket but my wages barely covered my rent. I couldn't work more hours because of classes and all the other jobs I applied for paid the same amount. The hours I did get were at night or weekends so I had no social life and I always felt tired. Consequently, I was always running late for early classes. One morning after sleeping in, I burst into tears when the lecturer singled me out as I tried to sneak into class. The girl sitting next to me consoled me. After the lecture, she asked me why I was always late and I told her. She smiled knowingly. "There is another way to earn money," she said. "Lots of money." That piqued my interest. The girl, Nicole, was always dressed in the latest fashions with an expensive manicure and accessories. I had assumed her parents were rich but she said she paid for everything herself. When I pressed her further, she told me she was a hooker. She worked in a clean, safe brothel and could get me an introduction with the owner. It all happened quickly after that. After a rather degrading "interview" in which I had to parade before the Madam in my underwear and answer all sorts of questions about my sex life, I was hired. Ever since, I've worked in the brothel three nights a week. I earn ten times what I did at the supermarket, for much less effort. And it's not as bad as I thought it would be. My regular clients treat me with respect and I'm never forced to do anything I don't feel comfortable doing. The hardest part is lying to my family and friends about where the money is coming from. They all assume I got a promotion at the supermarket but my mother grew suspicious when she dropped in one day and was told I no longer worked there. I told her she must have spoken to one of the newer employees who didn't know me. I felt awful and I never want to have to do that again. Thankfully I graduate this year so I can get a real job, something I can tell everyone about and be proud of. Although I don't have a boyfriend at the moment, there is a guy at uni who is showing some interest. If things get serious, do I tell him the truth? I'm scared that it might disgust him. On the other hand, if I tell him and he still wants to see me, then I'll know he's worth keeping. It's a decision I'll make when the time comes.
