Shot Girls

By Vanity Wonder

Shot Girls is the real life, raw accounting of Vanity Wonder's 5 year journey with black market butt injections. Commonly called "shots", "pumping" or "work", illegal butt injections are quickly on the rise and not just for strippers or women in the entertainment industry. Known for her jaw dropping 34-23-45 curves, Vanity tells no lies about how she obtained them. In this book, Vanity takes you on a gripping ride through her 16+ injection procedures, drug abuse, and the lessons she learned along the way. Without a doubt, this book will answer any questions you may have about this procedure and satisfy your curiosity on the subject.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Mar 31, 2012
• ISBN: 9781468568479

Vanity Wonder

Vanity Wonder is a former urban model who has had over 16 black market butt injection procedures.

Book preview

Contents

Foreword

Kenny

Detroit

Vanity

Introduction

to Addiction

Addiction 102

Luxor

Second Time Around

Freeway

Denied Complications

Minka

Red Handed

Security Measures

One of the Family

I Couldn’t Make

This Stuff Up

No One Is Immune

Deaf Ears

Karma Catches Up

Shit Just Got Real

Numb

Every Man for Himself

Rock Bottom

and Redemption

Epilogue

Glossary

This is a memoir. Though they are in truth what I experienced; they may not coincide with what others depicted in the story experienced or remember. Therefore, in consideration of that fact and in the interest of protecting identities and privacy, I have changed relationships, names, cities, states, and businesses. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

This book is dedicated to

Shay, Kenya and Drake

Thank you guys so much for believing in me and encouraging me to write this book. I hope the world knows that without GOD putting you guys in my life, this book may never have been.

Thank you and I love you all.

Foreword

As I think about how to begin this book, a host of words come to mind. Average, Extraordinary, Anger, Power, Respect, and Admiration. One other word comes to me, and I feel it’s the most important one of all. LOVE.

To me, this story, MY story, is a love story. Not in the traditional, man with a bare ripped chest on the front cover way, but a love story about how important it is and what can go wrong in the absence of it. A love story about how soon it should be introduced and how long it should stay. A love story about how to know when it’s real or when you are fooling yourself into thinking its real. A love story about how much you will do to get it and how far you will go to keep it.

This book started out about butt injections but ended up being about more than that. It’s also about looking for relationships to replace ones that I didn’t have. It’s about making the right decisions in bad situations. It’s about knowing that you will never know yourself as well as GOD knows you.

I hope you learn from my story.

Kenny

By 2004, I was 23 and tired of taking orders from power drunk managers. I had worked in restaurants and retail since I was 15 and was completely out of patience. The retail store that I was currently at was the LAST straw. Being a person that doesn’t like a strict time schedule meant that I was always waiting until the last minute to leave my house to go to work. It also meant that while at work, I waited until the absolute last second to clock back in from breaks. As soon as my shift was over, I was ready to leave, whether the relief for my department was there or not.

I had been thinking about dancing for a while, but hadn’t made up my mind about it until I had some bills come in that really needed to be paid. The 24 hours a week I was getting, at only $7 an hour just wasn’t cutting it. It was my fault though, because frankly, I didn’t want more hours. Around July, I started calling gentleman’s clubs to get information. I found out rather quickly that dancing is something that you have to learn about while doing. No one is going to sit with you on the phone to give you information and coach you like its little league. Every club I called kept saying the same line. Just come in.

And I would have, if I had the courage.

Every day, me and a friend of mine named Coco, would talk about our money problems. I’d met her through a mutual friend about a year earlier and since we hit it off, we stayed in touch. Coco never had a place of her own so from time to time, I let her stay at my house. She had a daughter that was the same age as my son but because of her issues, and the fact that she didn’t have a place to stay, she never had her.

She smoked weed and whenever she could get her hands on enough, she sold it too. I’ve never been interested in the stuff and since smoke gives me a headache, I never allowed the smoking of cigarettes or weed around me. Everyone said she was gay but I never saw that side of her. She never told me that she was and I never asked because I really didn’t care. Our friendship wasn’t centered on each other sexual orientation. Neither of us ever said one word about it.

In my opinion, Coco was a good person but she had some demons and inner turmoil that needed to be dealt with. After a terrible childhood of sexual and physical abuse, I could see why she was emotionally spent. She only lightly talked about her trials as a child. Seeing how angry and upset it made her, I never pushed for more than she was willing to give.

She was deeply into poetry and drawing but old habits never die without a fight. The streets were her home and she felt the most comfortable there. I always prided myself on being streetWISE but Coco was FROM the streets, OF the streets and ALWAYS IN the streets. Sometimes things about her bothered me but she was my partner in crime at this moment in my life, and I was willing to deal. When I told Coco that I wanted to take a stab at dancing, she was game. She was willing to accompany me and try out too.

With my courage finally at the level that it needed to be, I went on MapQuest and tried to locate as many of the gentlemen’s clubs as I could in the Flint area. Flint and Detroit were the only places near me that I was sure strip clubs were, so I decided on Flint. Going back and forth there as a teen, I knew some things would look somewhat familiar.

I didn’t want to dance in Detroit because I was extremely unfamiliar with the city and it looked to be a very dangerous place from the things I saw on the news. Plus, I was driving a 1991 Grand Marquis and I didn’t know how much life it had left in it. I didn’t want to push my luck and drive too far. In my mind, Flint made perfect sense. I printed out the directions and on a sunny, hot day in September, we set out.

We ended up at some hole in the wall strip clubs and some clearly racist ones, sometimes both of those things rolled into one. Then, we found ourselves outside of the Flint Majestic. I didn’t want to go in but it was my last resort. I was told that it smelled like a pussy bomb went off in there and the girls had sex with all the customers. I didn’t know what I was going to see in there but I decided to make up my mind from what I would see with my own eyes and not from what other people told me. I parked the car and got up my courage then me and Coco made our way into the club.

As soon as I walked in, I realized that everything I had heard was wrong. It didn’t smell like anything even remotely resembling a vagina bomb. It was dark and there were cool neon lights. Rock music was blaring and the foyer we were standing in was lit up like Vegas. We walked up to the door guy, who was dressed in a nice, white, collared shirt with a black tie and black slacks. I asked to see a manager and he brought one out for me. We were asked to present our ID’s to verify we were over 18 and then escorted inside the club. Once inside, the manager said that because of my look and frame, I would be allowed to audition but Coco would not.

At this time, I had less than 100 pounds on my 4ft 11in frame and my waist measured at 21 inches. Coco, on the other hand, was somewhere around 5' 9" with about 180lbs on her frame. She was light skinned with very fine, curly hair but street life gave her face a hardened look. The healed scars from a lifetime of fights didn’t do her any favors either.

It wasn’t hard to tell that she was irritated and upset by not being able to audition. In a huff, she said that she didn’t want to try out anyway. This was a predominately white club so Coco knew that she would have to go to a predominately black one, where they would appreciate her thicker body. There just happened to be one that was just that and not far from the Majestic. Nevertheless, the manager explained, that in order to tryout, I would have to dance.

Two songs. On the stage. In front of everyone.

First song you got to get topless and by the second song make sure you’re naked, he said.

Nothing can prepare you to go on a stage and strip for the first time. I was self conscious and a little humiliated. I thought I’d never get through it, but I did and was hired.

During the drive home, the two of us devised a plan. Because the club hadn’t let her tryout, Coco was now questioning her weight. She wanted to get it down before going to try out at the other strip club, but in the meantime, she needed money. I didn’t want to go to work by myself so I told her that if she sat in the club with me, I’d pay her. She’d be there so I could feel more comfortable and also, just in case I had to smack a hoe down.

Needing a babysitter for my son was an issue as well, but she said that her mom would do it. From what I gathered, her mom was a recovering crack head that had made alcohol her new addiction. I did not want this woman trusted with the responsibility of my son. Coco pleaded with me to just meet her mom and see how I liked her, so I did. She was a short, seemingly nice woman and my son took to her right away. After seeing this, I felt more comfortable so we talked to her about what needed to happen. I wanted her to watch my son at my house where all his toys were, where I knew he would be safe and where he would be most comfortable. But more importantly, where I could control her accessibility to beer. She was allowed to have one tall beer and no more. Under no circumstances was she allowed to be drunk around my son. To seal the deal, Coco said that whenever her mom watched my son, she would get her daughter so he could have someone to play with. I was happy with how everything was turning out.

My first night working at the club was a couple of days later. I packed a dance bag full of things that I thought I would need. After making sure the kids and her mom were comfortable at my house, we got on the road. Walking in there to work for the first time was weird. The humiliation and self consciousness were back like they’d never left but I couldn’t pay attention to them. I didn’t have a choice. I had to work and this is the road I chose. Coco grabbed a table and sat down, while I was shown to the dressing room.

It was an awkward but cool room. There were lots of mirrors, chairs and counter space for all of the dancers to sit, apply makeup and store our things. I put on my makeup, got dressed and hit the floor. When I got out there, I was given the rules and explained how everything works. The manager had me sign some papers and then asked me what my dance name would be. I drew a blank. I hadn’t thought up a name because I didn’t realize that I’d have to pick one. I don’t know what I thought, but as I said earlier, stripping is something that you have to learn as you go through it.

I just picked Kenny on the fly because it was the closest thing to my real name and I didn’t want to miss a stage set. There were fines for missing a set and it was frowned upon. The stage is supposed to have a girl on it at all times. It was explained to me, that sometimes new girls would pick a name and end up missing their set because they’re so used to being called their real names. I picked Kenny to avoid that.

After being there for a couple of hours, a few dancers decided to come and ask me if Coco was my girlfriend. I don’t know if it was the offended tone in which I said, No, or the disgusted look on my face, that convinced them more.

Well, we were just asking cause none of our boyfriends or girlfriends are allowed in here cause they cause too many problems, one of them said.

I didn’t care what they thought. Coco was there in case any of these ladies (I use that term loosely) wanted to get out of line. Before the night was over, Coco eventually went out to my car to go to sleep. When the club closed, all of the dancers were instructed to go in the dressing room, until all of the customers were ushered out and the club underwent a security sweep. Every nook and cranny was checked to make sure no customers were hiding anywhere. Afterwards we were allowed to come out and get in line to pay our fees for the night.

I can’t remember how much I made on my first night but I do remember being happy about how it went. Days later, when I figured out this dancing thing was going to work, I called the retail store and quit. I don’t know why I even waited those couple of days because I knew I wasn’t going back. My manager was apologetic and kept asking me what she could do to keep me. I was a half assed worker but my customer service was excellent. I told her the money wasn’t enough and there was nothing she could do. I didn’t, however, tell her that I had crossed over into the nightlife.

As time progressed, Coco kept coming to the club with me and the questions eventually ceased. I had become more comfortable with her mom watching our kids so sometimes, I allowed her to watch them at her house. I was warming up to some of the girls at the club and eventually met a guy. He’d come up to the club and blow with Coco, keeping her company until I got off work.

After a while, Coco and I’s friendship became strained. She was supposed to be losing weight and getting a job too, but all she wanted to do was sell weed and crack. Here I was, making loads of money the legit way but instead of this being motivation for her, she was seduced by illegal street money. She felt comfortable consorting with fiends and crack heads. Since she never had money for real weight, the money she was making was pennies compared to a stripper’s salary and in my opinion, definitely not worth the risk. Gradually, she stopped coming to the club with me and her mom stopped watching my son. I still gave her money when she asked for it but I was tired of her lack of ambition.

One of our last days hanging out together, it was sunny and we were riding around town. She asked me to turn down a certain street, and let out an Ugh in disgust, as I did. I was confused because when I looked over, I didn’t see anything but a man sitting in a wheelchair. She was never the type to make fun of people with disabilities, so I asked her why she did that. She proceeded to tell me that, the man in the wheelchair was her daughter’s real father and she couldn’t stand how much she looked like him.

I was speechless at this new information. She had told everyone, including me, that her daughter’s father was a man named China. Shocked, I immediately asked her why she lied to China and his family about her daughter and that pissed her off. She took her anger from the man in the wheelchair and focused it on me.

I DID say she wasn’t his one time when me and China was arguin’ but dey still wanted to take care of her so I let ’em! she said angrily.

Why would she lie to her child, China and his whole family like that? I couldn’t make sense of it and I could see an argument brewing, so I let it go. Because of this conversation and her life decisions, we stopped talking as often. She was one of my best friends, but I couldn’t condone or be a part of the direction her life was going in. She got an apartment a couple of cities from where I lived and took to selling drugs full time.

We did end up talking again, and the same issues reared their ugly heads. She told me that China had joined the Army and got married. She said that he wasn’t helping take care of her daughter or sending any money for support. By the way the conversation was going, I could tell that she cared more about him having a wife than she did about him not helping with her daughter. She said that she decided to call his commanding officer to get him in trouble. Yes, she specifically said her reason for calling was to get him in trouble.

I knew immediately, that this was a desperate attempt to express her jealousy over his marriage, only disguised as a plea for support for her daughter. When she reached the officer, he told her that China was AWOL but he assured her that the Army does not agree with personnel not supporting their children. He said that he would do what he could to help her clear the situation up.

Did she not remember that China wasn’t her daughter’s biological father? Why was she mad that he was married? Why would she try to get him in trouble for not paying for a child that wasn’t his? Was she out of her damn mind? Those are just a few of the questions I had running through my head.

I decided to ask her only this one, Why you tryna get him in trouble, when you know yo daughter ain’t his?

Her answer was one that I will never forget.

Cause I need help. Her daddy ain’t gone do it, so somebody need to help me.

She was convinced that not only was she right, but China was wrong. I didn’t try to reason with her, nor did I say anything else. Needless to say, it would be years after that conversation before I spoke to or saw her again.

Detroit

Working at the Flint Majestic, I became friends with a lot of the dancers but the one that I became closest to, was Rocky. She was a very pretty, light skinned woman with freckles and straight white teeth. In her dance shoes, she was over 6 feet tall and had a nice slender but slightly thick frame. She always wore fire engine red hair and had an extremely laid back nature. She was a couple of years older than me and had a daughter that was slightly younger than my son. Rocky was then, and will always be, one of the realest people that I’ve ever met in the dancing game.

Around February of 2005, after tearing up the dressing room like I was the Tasmanian Devil and trying to go through a car to beat down one of the dancers, I was fired from the Flint Majestic. It was a situation where an old dancer was picking on a younger one and I stepped in. They were both heavy users of heroine and coke but the old one was bigger and trying to be a bully. She

Reviews for Shot Girls

[ooniyide_1 · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Never underestimate how far women of all ages, backgrounds, cultures, and races, will go in the name of beauty, competition, and love. Quick cosmetic fixes can instantly transform careers and ruin lives over night. This book serves as a reminder that very few people are immune to the effects of vanity.Shot Girls is a quick read that I feel in the long run is going to serve as a historic reference probably to the future surgeons who will have to repair many bodies due to the side effects of getting these shot procedures. Most of us will never know the beauty modifications people go through in order to achieve a certain kind of curve. Vanity's work is obvious however there are many who just looked naturally blessed but who are not naturally blessed at all. Between snapping needles, the effects of gravity pulling silicone down from buttocks to ankles, deaths, gender identity and more, I liked this book. Its cheap. Sometimes it horrifying. And it does show consequences for actions and the human tendency to shift responsibility. I say give it a shot.