Dairy of a One-Legged Prostitute

If you think being a one-legged prostitute is all glitz and glamour, let me assure you—it's not. Sure, there are moments of excitement, but most days feel like a bizarre blend of a circus act and a therapy session.

I wake up every morning to the sound of my alarm blaring like a disgruntled rooster. My prosthetic leg sits propped against the wall, a constant reminder that my life is anything but ordinary. I swing my legs over the side of the bed and take a moment to breathe. "Alright, Lila," I mutter to myself, "time to put on your game face."

After a quick shower—where I contemplate whether I should invest in waterproof mascara—I slip into my favorite outfit: a fitted black dress that hugs my curves in all the right places. It's not just about looking good; it's about feeling confident. And if there's one thing I've learned from my years in this business, it's that confidence is key.

(To the reader) You might be wondering how I manage to stay upbeat in such an unconventional job. Well, humor is my coping mechanism. When life gives you lemons, you make lemonade—or in my case, you turn those lemons into a stand-up routine.

Once I'm dressed and ready to go, I grab my phone and shoot Simon a quick text: "Coffee at The Daily Grind? Need my daily dose of sanity."

Simon is my rock—the kind of friend who knows all my secrets yet still loves me unconditionally. He's also the only person who can make me laugh until I snort, which is quite an achievement considering my profession.

As I make my way to the coffee shop, I can't help but notice the curious glances from passersby. Some people look at me with pity; others seem intrigued. It's funny how society has this habit of labeling people based on appearances alone. Little do they know that beneath this exterior lies a woman with dreams, ambitions, and a wicked sense of humor.

When I arrive at The Daily Grind, Simon is already seated at our usual table by the window, sipping his coffee like it holds the secrets of the universe. He looks up as I approach and grins widely.

"Lila! You look stunning! Did you have another rendezvous last night?" he teases.

"Why yes, Simon! Just another evening of thrilling accounting discussions," I reply with mock seriousness as I slide into the chair across from him.

"Ah yes, nothing says romance like spreadsheets and tax deductions," he quips back.

We share a laugh before I dive into my usual order—a large cappuccino with an extra shot of espresso. As we sip our drinks, Simon leans in closer, his expression turning serious.

"So… how did it go with Mr. Henderson?" he asks.

I roll my eyes playfully. "Let's just say he was more nervous than a cat in a room full of rocking chairs."

Simon chuckles but then furrows his brow. "You know you don't have to do this if it makes you uncomfortable."

I take a deep breath; this conversation always treads familiar ground. "I know that, Simon. But it's not just about the money for me anymore. It's about connection—finding those moments where people let their guards down."

He nods thoughtfully before changing the subject. "So what's on your agenda today? More clients?"

"Just one scheduled for later," I reply nonchalantly. "But first, I need to run some errands—pick up some new outfits for work."

Simon raises an eyebrow. "New outfits? You mean more dresses that'll make you look like a million bucks?"

"Exactly! If I'm going to be selling fantasies, I might as well look the part."

As we chat and joke over our coffees, I can't help but feel grateful for moments like these—where laughter drowns out any insecurities or doubts lurking in the corners of my mind.

After finishing our drinks and exchanging playful banter about our latest misadventures—Simon's disastrous attempt at baking cookies and my failed attempt at yoga—we part ways with promises to meet again soon.

(To the reader) And just like that, another day begins in this whirlwind life of mine—a life filled with laughter, challenges, and unexpected encounters that keep me on my toes… or rather, on one leg.