Table dancing is my least favorite aspect of the job.
It isn’t the guys with their lascivious gazes that bother me. It isn’t the endless undulations and body rolls or even the sexy squats and twerking. It is those parts of my dance when I glide to my knees.
To get from standing to sitting or lying and back up again, a dancer has to move with grace and finesse, and that means shocking the kneecaps. Then there is the crawling, and tables are unforgiving surfaces. After over six years of dancing, my knees have just about had enough. Even though I do everything I can to soften the impact, they are permanently bruised, and I suspect most likely damaged on the inside. I can’t drive for more than half an hour without them aching.
Determined to titillate my audience, I keep up the pretense of m
