I work hard for the money.

Ever since I left my parents' place, I've been a financial mess. Sure, the fact that I gave em most of what was in my bank account wasn't exactly helpful to the situation - but what's done is done. I am no longer a doormat.

The second I set up shop (so to speak) in Rob's mom's place, I had a plan: get a job as a dominatrix, horde my money, then pay off as much of my debt as possible as I simultaneously pay my way through school and get my *own* place. I focused all of my energy into culling information about the dom world, and I cold-called, emailed, and interviewed my ass off. I was determined; not only to make quick cash, but to do it without fucking anyone.

I'd had a brief glimpse of the life at a place that would later be busted for prostitution. All I knew was that, if I kept my temper in check, I'd make boatloads of cash for sensually beating up men. I was hooked.

Unfortunately, lots of places that call themselves "dungeons" are really brothels. In my interviews, I made sure to let them know I wasn't gonna do anything I didn't feel comfortable with, i.e., full nudity, blow jobs, handjobs, sex of any variety, and most of the places just didn't wanna hear it. A good friend of mine, Ginger (aka Opera Singer), had been in the business a little longer than me, and had made more contacts in the world than me. The two of us decided to go job hunting together.

So, with $200 in my bank account and no money coming in, I spent a month tarting myself up for interviews - to no avail. I started to think that maybe, just maybe, I'd have to *gasp* look for an office job.

Now, don't get me wrong. I respect all lines of work. I've been at the nonprofit level (where I was on the board of directors for one of the largest nonprofits in NY), the corporate level (where I was the assistant to the president of a high end real estate firm), and everywhere in between. But, for the most part, office work is B-O-R-I-N-G. Also, at the jobs where my conscience stays clean (cuz I'm helping out the little guy), I make no money. At the jobs where I'm working for the man and earning a decent wage, I feel soulless. Either way, I get frustrated. Really frustrated. So looking for a job that would leave me feeling soulless and like I'm wasting my time - that wasn't necessarily on the top of my list of priorities.

Rob's mom's place, heretofore known as "home", is a 5 minute walk to campus, so I decided to talk my way onto the quad (since I lost my student ID ages ago), and use the facilities. Ginger and I had decided that we'd spend our afternoon sending out resumes, since none of the dungeons were calling us back. We went immediately to one of our old stomping grounds and places of prior employment, the campus Women's Center. And just when I resigned myself to the idea that I'd be working at a desk again and earning a blah wage, my old boss, the director of the Women's Center, approached me with a job offer. Turns out, she has a consulting firm, and she'd like me to work for her.

Off the bat, I figured it was clerical work, and to some extent I was right. But the wage was good ($15/hour), there wouldn't be any taxes taken out for the first three months, and I'd get paid in cash. Add to that, I'd be working mostly from her home, and that's a 15 minute walk away from home. The only down side was that the hours aren't steady;and they're not many, either (15-25 hours/month).

But, as is the case for most of the jobs I land, there was more to this one. Ya see, there's a very specific kind of consulting that Mei's company does. She hires men and women to teach medical students, nursing students, physicians assistance students, etc., how to conduct a thorough, positive, and respectful exam on the resproductive organs of men and women. These men and women, who are called "teachers" or "models" bare all in the name of science. Mei asked if I'd be interested in becoming a teacher.

Now, here's the thing. I've never been shy about my body. But it seems hypocritical that I should tell one employer (at the dungeon) that I refuse to bare all, when not only would I be showing off my goodies at my other job, but strangers would be copping feels and probing my dark places. I thought it over and decided that, Yes, I want to explore this option. I signed up for training and hoped for the best.

A week later, I was at St. Luke's with Mei and some other teachers. She'd told me very little about my training, and I'd assumed that there would be a Q&A and maybe a video to watch. No no no no no no. I'd be looking at naked women for the next three hours, watching second-year residents learn to use a speculum, and observing as the "teachers/patients" got examined. The second this reality came into view, I felt queasy, like maybe I can't handle this. Maybe I'm not mature enough to conduct a class of this nature. Maybe I'd giggle inappropriately (since these situations are rife with off-color conversations and funny anecdotal moments), and embarass Mei.

I handled things well. Not that I had to do anything other than observe the class. But it was definitely an illuminating experience. A snippet from my training: Yvette, a Hispanic woman in her late 40s or early 50s, is lying on the examining table, which is tilted at a 45-degree angle, so that she can watch what the students are doing. She is naked from the waist down, and wears only a hospital gown, draped loosely over her torso. Julie, a thin, short, Asian woman in her early 20s, is seated between Yvette's legs, and attempting to insert a speculum into Yvette's vagina. Yvette has just showed the class the correct way to insert a speculum (the dominant hand holds the device, the other hand inserts a finger into the vagina, to ease the speculum inside). Julie's tiny hands are dwarfed by surgeon's gloves that are a size too big; she has two fingers inside of Yvette's vagina, and is attempting to insert the speculum without first taking out her fingers.

Yvette: Now, you have to replace your fingers with the speculum. [Julie is still trying to shove the speculum into Yvette's vagina.] No, Julie. REPLACE your fingers with the speculum. [Julie is looking, confused, at Yvette.] Julie, your hands are in my vagina. Please stop looking at my face and look at what you're doing. Look at my vagina, Julie. Look at my vagina!

Some moments later:

Yvette: [Her face glowing, and a smile playing on her lips.] Julie, please stop moving your hands. You're touching my clitoris. [Julie, embarassed, clasps her hands in front of her.] Remember, Julie, you must touch the patient with purpose. Never touch a patient if you don't have to do so.... [A minute later.] Julie, you have to stop caressing my thigh, Julie. It's inappropriate, and I know you don't realize what you're doing, but the next time you conduct a pelvic exam, it's gonna be on a real patient, and you don't want to make her feel uncomfortable.

So yeah.

Yvette handled it like a trooper, and she never lost her cool. Despite the fact that she was showing off her goodies to a handful of perfect strangers, she remained in command of the situation. Now there's a woman with cajones.

Mei assures me that, for the most part, students are eager to improve their skills, and they treat teachers from the consulting firm with as much dignity and respect as any teacher at their school. Still, there will be times, depending on who our students are, when very disrespectful scenarios may play out. Some students think they're too good to learn from "a bunch of laymen and laywomen". Some are specializing in a field that has nothing to do with obstetrics or gynecology. That's not our problem. We offer a service, and if NYU Nursing School or Columbia Medical School or whomever believes we should teach, then we do.

I came out of that experience feeling refreshed and with an overwhelming sense of empowerment. These women knew their bodies inside and out - literally; they weren't ashamed of their bodies, and they weren't afraid of them, either. For the longest time, I've been playing with the idea of someday going into nursing and physician's assistance, but those thoughts were always unfounded concepts. Now that I'd witnessed firsthand one of the most awkward and uncomfortable situations imaginable in a doctor's office - and handled it maturely and responsibly - I felt ready for the next step.

As of now, I'm in the midst of training for this job. After about a month, I'll be ready to actually start getting paid for it, at which point the pay breaks down to about $75/hour. Granted, this is a per diem gig, but because I get to choose my own schedule, it's a welcome addition to my routine.

In the midst of all of this positive change, I got a call-back from the dungeon where Ginger used to work. I'd told them during my interview that I'm a newbie, since the last place I worked at was busted for prostitution and I didn't want that following me around. "Training" is tomorrow, and if that goes well, I start asap. The only thing that may deter this from happening is the issue of my bedbug bites, which haven't altogether cleared up, and still look downright gross.

Either way, I also applied to a human resources-type job on campus; I should hear from them in a couple of days.