Thought Catalog

Mae West

I began to envision myself up on the stage, the crowd worshipping my secretary hips, my muffin top spilling over my G-string, the insides of my long thighs that would rub together as I’d slink seductively offstage. Finally last Thursday, I stripped out of my inhibitions and signed up for a $15 beginner class with the New York School of Burlesque.