This is a true story. If you saw me now you would never guess that for one night 20 years ago I was a “lapdancer “ in the biggest dump of a nightclub West Country Ireland. You would never guess that this woman before you, a mother of two, 30 pounds overweight, strained and tired looking was an “exotic dancer” for one night only. I even have to pinch myself.
I was working in the advertising department of a leading Irish Sunday Newspaper and my co worker bet myself and my friend who recently had a boob job to apply for the position of exotic dancer that we were advertising. Two days later we were shopping for our “costumes”. I picked out a sheer blue dress which left nothing to the imagination, all well and good. We were just about to leave work and head off on our adventures to exotic County Drogheda when I realised I had no matching shoes for my sheer blue dress and indeed all I had was a brown pair of brogues. Well full of bravado and cheek I thought no one would notice.
Our co worker waved us off with tears of laughter streaming down his face at the two fresh faced Irish girls driving down to County Drogheda in the pursuit of fame, money and happiness. A few things happened along the way, I had forgotten my Ventolin Inhaler, so we had to reroute ourselves to the nearest accident and emergency department where in front of horrified medical staff, I could hardly breathe laughing so much at my brown brogues and sucking on my oxygen mask. Two hours later we were on the road again. We booked into the nearest bed and breakfast and my friend parked her car. We sought out the nearest pub, had a whiskey, steadied our nerves and then finally walked to the Club. We put on our “costumes” and then out they came -the brown brogue shoes. If you can picture the scene, the willowy lady in a blue sheer dress and then what looked like a huge pair of brown Irish tap dancing shoes laced and all.
Here is what I learnt that night, I am not cut out for lap dancing, in fact myself and my friend spent less than an hour in the club. We spent the hour huddled up together, gob smacked at the goings on, laughing at all the eejits there. Our dreams of the easy life shattered…. my big brown brogues could not get to the exit quick enough. Myself and my friend left the club holding hands and we laughed so hard I nearly brought on another asthma attack. The next morning we walked back to the car only to find a parking ticket displayed on the screen.
This is what I know 20 years later, the importance of old friendships. My friendships today are based around my children , but like every woman out there , I know inside that I am a mixture of the blue sheer dress and the old brogue shoes, desperate for glamour but grounded in reality. My old friends know this. And do not judge a book by its cover, the next time you see a tired looking mum in your local grocery department - Do not dismiss her, she has a wealth of hidden stories in there, some which may really surprise you.