My Stripper Days, Plus Dancing Bebe(s)

So, true story: when I was around 7-8 years old I thought stripping was the best thing ever. I wanted to be a stripper when I grew up, and I used to put on my dad's soundtrack to The Sting, crank up Hooker's Hooker, put on all the clean clothes from the laundry room and play stripper for hours in the living room. (I always stopped at my own clothes! I only took off the extra laundry!) My parents, being the laid-back parents they are, didn't freak out or chasten me for playing stripper. In fact, I don't remember them ever saying anything to me about it, ever. And one day, I just stopped thinking I wanted to be a stripper. Please note that at age 8, I had only a marginal idea of what strippers actually did; I thought it was just wearing pretty clothes and dancing, two things I still think are pretty awesome.

As an adult, I asked my dad why he never told me to stop playing stripper or to stop saying that when I grew up, I wanted to be a stripper. And my dad told me, "I knew you'd grow up and realize there was more to you than that."

I was a dancer from the time I was could walk. I try to tell people, it's in the gene pool; Latin babies just know how to dance. (For those that don't know, my mom is Chilean. And she was a Chilean pop star when she was a teenager. I should write about that sometime.) And here is proof:



If you haven't seen it yet, it's worth a watch; this kid is something else!