The Stripper Show Spill

What goes on behind the closed doors of red light rooms?
What is so exotic about poles and splits and rhythmic grinding?
How can a dance disgrace a song as innocent as Hinder's Lips of an Angel or Roxette's It Must Have been Love?
More importantly, how much are the rates?

Yes, I have seen a stripper show. With the constant nagging to spill of female co-workers and pretending naive maniacs, it is apt to put into record what goes on behind the red light rooms. By and far, Metro Manila still has the best to offer with the Quezon Avenue smorgasbord. Classmates really has classmates for performers with the typical colegiala beauties. Mystique is the most shocking with already top to bottom nude performers walking the longest ramp (ala fashion mode style). Some others are more of the same here and there, some shows, some splitting and more stripping.

Naga cannot be taken for an underdog in this arena. (Actually, it is loosely termed Boundary by most of the male co-workers, with it lying on the outskirts of Naga and Milaor) The performers are less glamorous varying from the obvious mother of two with the screaming stretchmarks to the overweight has been star of the night who dances like its still the 80s. I was dumbfounded to note that the most shocking performance comes from a middle aged woman in Naga who plucked a hair from her youknowwhat and blew it to a nearby patron in a flying kiss like motion.

As a philosophy, I have quite maintained that going to stripper bars is a philanthropic act. It is our chance to financially endow upon the unfortunate daughters of Eve whatever we can set aside. At first glance, it is pleasing to see women undress at your behest but after a minute or two (for some a song or two), pity will creep in and all you can ask is how did she end up here? Most are just victims of circumstances, there's the abandoned wife, the solo parent, and the doting daughter.

So this is the sad tale of expressionless eyes who graze the unglamorous stage, hugs the unhygienic pole, and looks for reflection at the unforgiving stage mirror. And I get to play the part of the unmoving spectator who condones her fate by settling my bill.