I’m delighted, I still have a colleague who is preparing a book. It really pleases me to see that more and more of us are speaking out! She sent me an excerpt here:
That night, my heart was pounding. I felt devoid of all common sense, as if reasoning had left my mind. It was very difficult, if not impossible, for me to reason with myself, to reflect. I decided to empty.
My boyfriend wasn’t there, he couldn’t support me. I then felt compelled to act. If you were no longer in a state of “living” but of “survival”, what would you do?! When I asked myself the question, I can assure you that in a nanosecond, all kinds of answers came to mind. A robbery or a burglary? Sell your body or sell dr*gs? How strange that in each of my answers there is no, how shall I face legal implications. As if working legally was simply unthinkable to me. I needed money immediately and in my mind, it was clear that to direct me to other solutions, other than employment center, or even the interim boxes, was the best option for me. In terms of meaning: it’s clearer…if I understood what you mean of course! For a while now, I had been heading towards the profession of “Escort girl” either peripatetic or luxury pro*titute (use the term that suits you best) the ”meaning” does not change anything, except my sense. To tell the truth, it is obvious that my boyfriend was not for nothing in the choice of my decision (but we will return later, in a future letter devoted to this, on the deep reasons which motivated me to undertake this path- there, rather than another).
So that night, I found myself without money. But luckily for me, I had my back covered. A few days earlier, through Metro Escort site, I managed to make contact with a client and mutually we granted each other respect and trust. As a result, I had mechanically “classified” this client as a plan B in my mind. It was now part of my “survival plan”. Involuntarily caught up in a comedy, he became the test… I did everything in my power not to see him in my mind as a simple “prototype”. Indirectly distancing myself from the truth, I was “protecting” myself in a way, by deciding that day to lie to myself. I decided to run away from reality while reality, it, had already passed me by far. While a confirmation had just been returned to me, it was now time. Feeling unable to back down, I then put on the “costume”. Apparently, I became “master”. Like a chameleon, I ardently wanted to become a pro in the art of camouflage. I simply decided to adapt as best I could to this new “environment” which was unknown to me until then.
We are in summer and I am wearing a “light” outfit. Light, but never vulgar. Uncompromising on nuance, it was essential for me to “know how to keep class in all circumstances”. My mother, one of my most precious role models in life, had created a sudden curiosity in me the first time I noticed a man lay eyes on her. That day, I was able to see with great admiration what a beautiful woman she could be. Classy and refined, not devoid of character, her Maharashtrian origins gave her away every time her gaze met yours. If it is said that the eyes are the mirror of the soul, you must know that my mother had an extraordinarily beautiful soul.