American Boob Job
- Jo Weldon
- Aug 3
- 8 min read
Updated: Aug 7
ESSAY by JO WELDON
PHOTOS by SUZE RANDALL
When I worked in strip clubs in the 80s and 90s, customers didn’t hesitate to ask me personal questions. They’d gesture toward my chest and ask, “Are those real?” in a conspiratorial tone, as if I could trust them with my secret. “Well,” I’d respond, “they’re not imaginary!” They’d roar with laughter and tip me for being so quick-witted, as if I were a gormless puppy who had just done something unexpectedly clever. They didn’t want to see that I was a wily old circus bitch who’d heard it all and said it all before.
As to whether or not I’d actually had any work done, that’s a different question.
The first boob job I ever saw on one of my fellow strippers convinced me never to get one. I met Shannon during my first year as a stripper in Atlanta in 1980. She was one of the senior dancers, well into her 20s. A leggy dancer with a face like a Vogue model and an incredibly warm laugh, she was a good earner, but she always wore a quarter-cup bra that covered her breasts just below her nipples while working. She never showed her lower breasts to customers—no matter how much money they offered her.
In the dressing room, however, Shannon made a point of showing the other dancers what had been done to her, hoping to deter us from a similar experience. Fully bared, her breasts were shocking to view: naturally smooth and perfect above her nipples, but rippled, puckered, and pebbled beneath.
She told us that after a short stint in the military, she’d been a showgirl in Vegas in the 1970s. “The Doctor” was brought in by one of the casino showroom managers to service the dancers, who paid $800 per breast (as if anyone was going to do just one) for silicone injections. Shannon believed the manager was getting a kickback from each procedure “The Doctor” performed. Although the dancers looked great immediately after their injections and were moved to star positions in the shows—as she had been—over time, their breasts almost always became distorted. She said her results were far from the worst work she’d seen done by this man, whom she contemptuously referred to as “Dr. Shitbird.” She’d known plenty of girls who had to have major surgery to have the injected tissue removed, including at least one who needed a full mastectomy after her breasts turned gangrene. However, having signed a waiver, Shannon was told she couldn’t sue Dr. Shitbird—probably by a Shitbird lawyer.
