The manager looked at my petite frame and nervous smile, pointed her manicured hand to the dressing room and listed the rules: Desperate for answers, I started scrolling through an online forum for women with ADHD, wondering if I might have an attention disorder, looking for an explanation. She stared at me with a bored expression, so I got right to it. I broke out in sweat. I suggested the private room and he agreed. Whenever I struggled to understand if someone was angry or bored, I went home and berated myself for being lazy, ditzy, and dumb as I obsessively evaluated the night. Are they asking for my real name?
After two hours, I excused myself for a moment to go to a bathroom where I got a message from Sarah: I considered a bar job, but decided to try stripping simply because it meant fewer hours. I prayed no one would ask me personal questions. I forgave myself when I slipped outside of social norms and said something weird. True, I was better at picking up more obvious cues like eagerness and anger, but group settings were strenuous — too many subtleties to keep track of. Most people I met outside of work told me I was a great listener, unaware of how much time I spent in my room practicing the correct reactions. The birthday was successfully buried, and I was buzzing from the bliss of escape. I smiled and looked at his nose instead of his eyes while chewing over my words and length of speech, trying to offer the version of my trip they wanted to hear. With fewer stimuli around, it was easier to focus and converse back and forth in a way that felt less strenuous than at the restaurant hours before. Why can I give so much of myself to my customers and so little to my friends? I allowed myself just one sob before I fixed my face and performed for the last half hour. Forums for autistic women advised pulling off masks that many develop to pass as non-autistic. I broke out in sweat. He waited outside with me until Sarah pulled up in a rideshare. I was intrigued, but confused — how did they convince customers to spend money off-stage? All but one dismissed me. Women in the ADHD forum invited me to the group for autistic women and there I saw myself a hundred times over. She saw right through my mask. He was short, with a tuft of gray hair and a slight smile that crinkled his eyes. But then I swallowed those thoughts and walked onto the floor to escape from myself. One time, I went to a dinner party my sister hosted. But I have to go. My least favorite social situation: The effects of camouflaging are toxic, they warned. I rambled incessantly, illustrating the nightclubs, the hostels I stayed in, even how I bled through my powder-blue dress because I forgot to change my tampon. Nearly two years after I started dancing, my friend Sarah invited me to her birthday party.
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