Could be worse

A few nights ago I went to a friends house and he wasn't back from work yet, so I made chit chat with his mother. Of course, the subject of what I am doing with my life came up right away. When I told her where I worked she replied with, "Well, at least you're not a stripper."

Not surprisingly, I've gotten this response before. When you work in the sex industry, people always like to compare you with other occupations that they think are "lower". I don't know if this reasoning is for their benefit or meant as some sort of weird comfort to me, but it's one of my least favorite reactions.

First off, I don't think of stripping as "the worst thing ever". In fact, I have friends who are strippers, dancers, burlesque performers, gogo girls, topless performers, etc. And these folks are awesome. And like every career out there, some of them love it, some of them hate it but need the money, and some of them would do it even if they weren't getting any compensation besides the experience.

Second, why do people feel like I need to be comforted that things could always be worse? This phrasing puts down my career choice, and is extremely sex negative. Working at a sex shop is not a crime, nor is it something that I was forced into. I have worked this job for four years now, and I have no intention on leaving right away. When stating my place of work, in no way am I pleading a cry for help, nor do I need you to say something to make me feel better. All I am simply doing is stating my job.

I am a sex shop worker
Proud and true
Hear me roar!
Buzz buzz buzz

Out and About

Sometimes I forget that just because I am sex-casual doesn't mean that my surroundings are.

I take the bus every day to and from work, and sometimes I like to bring reading material with me. Since my work constantly updates its library, I like to keep myself in the loop and skim through a few books a week. My co workers were talking about how they use book jackets to cover their reading materials whenever they are in public. I don't. I don't really get self-conscious about the books I read, and I like when the person next to me starts reading along after realizing what the content is. I have yet to be called out for my raunchy reads, but I've gotten a few awkward glances.

Today I went to a museum with my father. I recently was given a messenger bag that has a sex toy companies logo across it and I wear it everywhere. For my fathers comfort I flipped the bag around so the logo faced me (he's not exactly gung-ho about my career choice). When going through museum security, we had to have our bags searched. I handed my bag over to the cute security guard, and waited as his eye brows raised at the erotic words on my bag. I held back a smile as he riffled through my stuff, which included a copy of Jay Wiseman's "SM 101" and he blushed. Happily I accepted my bag back and gave him a cheerful thank you as he stared at me while I walked away.