We’ve all been through it – you go over
to a friend’s house for the first time and you have to meet their parents and they want
to “get to know you.” So they start asking all these questions:
“How do you like school? What kinds of things do you like to do? Where do your parents work?” I could handle anything else, but that last
one? THAT’S the one I always dreaded. First off, I didn’t even HAVE a dad, just
my Mom. Sometimes I would lie and say I did, and that
he was in the military, which was why he wasn’t around. (I know- bad of me to lie, but I just hated
having that awkward conversation, you know?). The other reason I dreaded the question? My Mom’s job wasn’t normal, like, she
wasn’t a teacher, or a lawyer, and didn’t work in an office, like everyone else’s
moms. When I was little, she told me she was a dancer,
so that’s what I told everyone. We were little girls – we figured she was
a ballerina or something. But now that I’m older, I know the truth…my
Mom works as a stripper. Hi, my name’s Millie, and this our story. You can probably guess that I didn’t have
a normal childhood, and that my mom isn’t exactly a normal mom, either. But before I begin, I just want to ask for
one thing: please, listen to my whole story before you judge. I know a lot of you will judge anyway, but
I want to be able to tell my story freely. I don’t remember my childhood being super
weird, but we were definitely poor. Like…really poor. Dirt poor. I didn’t really realize how bad everything
was until I started looking back at it, though. We lived in this disgusting little apartment,
sharing a bedroom. I didn’t pay attention to stuff like problems
with rats, or how cold it got in winter, because Mom was really good at making everything into
a game, like making a fort out of blankets and hiding out all night long when it was
cold, and pretending we were princesses like Cinderella and that the rats just wanted to
be friends with us. I think those were definitely mice in Cinderella,
but I believed her anyway. But we always had enough to get by. Mom was a maid at a hotel in town (I know
that part was definitely true) so she didn’t make much money – really, just enough to
buy us some food, get me to school, and keep the lights on. At this point in the story, you’re probably
wondering: what’s the story with my dad? Good question. I mean, most people DO have two parents, even
if they’re divorced or not married or whatever. My dad definitely exists. Somewhere. But he and my Mom don’t have a relationship. I actually only found out last year, when
I was 13, that my mom was sexually assaulted, when she was only 4 years older than me. She had just started college, and had all
these bright plans for her future. But she ended up pregnant, and decided to
keep the baby. Which was me! And now, here I am. This also means that my mom is only 31, so
she’s noticeably younger than most everyone else’s parents. In fact, a lot of the time, people think she’s
my sister. So I get a lot of questions about that, too,
which is awkward to answer. Sometimes I lie and just say she has a really
good plastic surgeon. Don’t worry, she gave me permission to say
that. So, yeah, that’s my parents’ story. No idea who he is, and I don’t want to know
either! He may be my father, but he’ll never be
my dad, and I’ll never forgive him (whoever he is) for what he did to my mom. Am I glad she didn’t get an abortion? Sure, because otherwise I wouldn’t be here! But I feel bad too, because I know her life
would’ve turned out so differently if she’d gotten her degree and a great job instead
of worrying about being home to take care of a sick little baby all by herself. So now that you know the background (believe
me, I’m sick of telling that story) let’s go back to what you’re here for: My Mom
the stripper. Like I was saying, she had an awful job as
a maid. They paid her next to nothing because they
expected her to get tips, but the place was such a hole that the people who stayed there
for sure were not the kind who would leave a tip. The hotel manager treated her like dirt, made
her work overtime without getting paid extra, and pretty much all around abused her, but
she held onto it because it was all she had, and she had to support me. Then came the worst winter EVER. It was freezing cold, our windows cracked
and the super wouldn’t fix them, and Mom and I were both constantly sick. She took me to the doctor but couldn’t afford
the medicine he prescribed, and couldn’t afford to go see a doctor herself. She told me that she went home after that
appointment, stared at herself in the mirror and said: “Something has to change.” And it did. I had no idea what was going on, because at
this point I was only about 9 years old. All I know is that one day, Mom came home
and told me that she quit her job at the hotel. She had gotten a new job. She was going to have to work evenings, and
she wasn’t sure yet, but she thought this one was going to pay more. A lot more. I was excited because more money meant less
hungry nights and maybe even some new shoes, but even more than that, I was excited because
MOM seemed excited, which hardly ever happened these days. There was this twinkle in her eyes, and her
tired face suddenly seemed… brighter. That had to be good. I didn’t really notice a big difference
at first, except that she wasn’t around much and I had to learn how to do more for
myself. But then, slowly, the change began. Mom started bringing home fruits and vegetables,
fresh instead of canned or frozen, and meat, which was usually a special treat. She even hired someone to fix the windows,
and bought a new heater to keep us warm at night. The only downside, of course, was that because
Mom was working evenings, I had to spend the nights home alone. I know she felt bad about that, but she made
me swear I wouldn’t tell anybody and she showed me how to lock the doors and windows. So every day, I’d come home from school,
make myself a snack – another new luxury! – do my homework, make some dinner – I
always made sure to make enough for her and leave it in the fridge for when she got home
– then watch tv until it was time for bed. I’d hear Mom coming home in the early hours
of the morning because the door would shut and then the shower would turn on, and finally,
she would crawl into bed next to me. This was the routine for a while. And things kept changing – I got my own
bed, and then some new outfits, and then one day, we moved into a bigger better apartment
in a better neighborhood. I was so excited! Mom, being Mom, made it seem like an amazing
big adventure. She said we were starting a new chapter of
our lives. The new apartment had two bedrooms, and it
was so much nicer – there were big windows so the light could come in, we had a living
room AND a dining room, and the bathroom was huge. We even got a cat, a little black kitten called
Lucky, now that we could afford another mouth to feed. I’m not sure when I started to get suspicious
that Mom wasn’t being completely honest about her job. It was more of a gradual hunch. I mean…a ballerina? At midnight? As soon as I was old enough to know what a
stripper was, I started thinking she was stripping for money. But I mean, it’s not like she tried to hide
it. In fact, we were always completely honest
with each other. I think she just tried to give me the child-friendly
version of her job. One morning we were having breakfast together. “Mom, can I ask you a question?” “Sure honey, what is it?” “When you say that you DANCE for a living,
do you—” I didn’t know what to say exactly, so I just waved my hands around awkwardly
a lot. “What are you thinking, sweetie? I think we’re on the same page. It’s ok to just say it.” I couldn’t even say it out loud. “Are you…a…stripper?” I whispered. She looked me straight in the eyes. “I am. If that makes you feel weird, it’s ok...” I reassured her that, yeah, even though it
WAS weird, I didn’t FEEL weird about it. I was the only person who understood how bad
things had been when we were poor, and even though I didn’t ask, I could understand
how Mom, who was very pretty and fit, might have seen someone advertising for adult entertainers
and decided it was exactly what she needed to do to get us out of that situation. I could tell that this conversation made her
really anxious, and she was probably scared that I was ashamed of her, but that was the
furthest thing from my mind. I stood up and gave her a massive hug, and
told her I knew that everything she did, she did for me, and that I supported her no matter
what. Before you ask: no, I don’t tell anyone
that Mom is a stripper. I just say she still cleans, but now she’s
working nights. You and I both know how mean people can be,
and Mom doesn’t deserve that. “I don’t want this to be your job forever,
Mom,” I said to her one day. “Actually…I was thinking I could maybe
go back to college and finish off my degree. Millie, do you think that’s a crazy idea?” “I think that’s a great idea! You could go to college during the day, and
work at night. Although I’m not sure when you’d sleep
…” Mom said she could make it work. I think that if I hadn’t encouraged her,
she probably never would have done it, but she enrolled at the local college and started
taking classes to get a degree in marketing and communications. And let me tell you, she is now the happiest
I’ve ever seen her. She’s mostly taking afternoon classes so
that she can sleep in, and sometimes we even study together! It’s weird, but I like it. I especially like knowing that Mom won’t
be a stripper forever. I don’t mind her doing it, but I don’t
like the idea of creepy guys staring at her, and sometimes I get worried about her safety. So, the sooner she gets out of there, the
better. I’m in 9th grade now. I feel way more comfortable spending my evenings
alone now that I’m older; sometimes my friends will sleep over, or I just hang out with Lucky
and watch whatever Netflix show I’m currently bingeing. Seeing Mom go to college has made me certain
that I’m going to go to college too one day, so I’m working really hard to get As
and Bs to make sure that happens, although I’m not sure what I want to study yet. I’m glad that we have more money now, and
I hope we never end up back in that bad situation again. I am so grateful for my Mom, who made the
bad situation as good as it could have been. She made sure that I had a nice, healthy childhood
even growing up in the worst place, and I will always be thankful to her for that. She truly is the best. As for my father, all I can say is that I
hope he sometimes thinks of Mom and feels guilty. But little does he know, his cruelty just
made her into a stronger woman – and it gave her a daughter who grew up to become
her best friend. So, that’s my story of my Mom the stripper. Hopefully that part of our story ends when
she graduates and gets a job with good hours and less creepy guys! I hope that you haven’t judged her too harshly
– she really was just trying to survive, and give me the best life possible. What about you guys? I know most of you probably don’t have moms
who are strippers, but do any of your parents have a weird job? Tell me about it – I’ll be reading the
comments! Oh, and don’t forget to like and subscribe
for more crazy true stories like my one. Thanks for listening!
