(Tiffany) A porn actress's story
Abuse of women in the porn industry is alarming; the chosen craft places many of these young women in harmful situations. Politics are bleak at best, with society turning a blind eye. Many of these women are young and naive to the complexities of business, especially evident in porn.
I hope you see this female as a person you could be friends with; the only difference, in this case, is that her choices led her into the world of pornography. All names in this story are made-up; if your name is similar or the situations mentioned, it is a pure coincidence.
The story starts with the background of the individuals involved with names mentioned as they grew into adults. In time they develop their perspective stage personas.
Trace Bransen
Trace, his immediate family called him David, his middle name. Why, one of his cousins was named Trace, and he was older, so to keep confusion down and fighting among the in-laws. Why they did not use different names was his mother and cousin. As young females, they talked about baby names, his mother chose Trace but then thought her cousin stole it. His folks used his middle name as far back as he could remember. He grew up in a more inferior area of Gary, Indiana. He lived on the west side of town, between the ghetto and the middle-class suburbs. His whole family had a drinking problem from the first time he could remember. But did live better than most black people in the area. His dad worked for the steelworks, and his mom was home with the children. Trace had three sisters and three brothers; this made seven of them, sometimes their mom worked at the bakery down the street.
He was very good at sports and played little league baseball during the summers.
One Saturday evening, his mother got drunk at the nearby liquor establishment and walked home staggering, almost falling down a few times. he saw her down the street and ran to help her. She grabbed Trace, holding on so she wouldn't fall. It was a warm summer day, so most people were outside on their front porches, seeing his mother drunk and staggering while her son helped her home.
They began to laugh at her.
"Stop laughing at my mom."
They calmed down, seeing the hurt look on the boy's face, but still snickered as they walked on. One mean bully dude continued to laugh; he did not care. Trace was embarrassed and angry simultaneously, but he got his mom home safely and gently put her in her bed.
He went to go fine this kid who laughed at his mom. The bully saw him, and walked up, saying, "You better leave before I hurt you boy, go home to your loser mom." Trace jumped on him, lighting him up. Trace got in the first punch, rocking him. The bully was dazed but quickly recovered and threw a couple of blows.
This event caused him to want to learn how to box, joining a local boxing club. It took several summers before he stopped the guy from laughing; later, they became good friends.
One day a boxing academy was in Chicago to promote awareness of its chapter and a recruiting search. Since Gary, Indiana, was so close, flyers went out into our neighborhood. Everyone he saw was telling him about it. After all, no guy ever tried challenging Trace, as he had built up my strength and fighting ability walking my mother home from the bar. He never judged her. She was his mom, and eventually, she quit drinking because his dad had enough of it, and divorce was looming. That was enough to cause her to get help.
Sofia Lola Moller
Sofia grew up in a typical household in a small city in Holland. Her father was Foreman for a construction company, and her mother was a local elementary school teacher. Life was hard; there were many things her family could not afford, but life moved on.
Sofia graduated High school and would be 19 in a few months. Her dad was working late that night, her mother was in the middle of making dinner. Her mother asked if she could go on an errand at the local store; she had run out of a few grocery items. She got the items her mom wanted and then returned home. She kissed her mom on the cheek and said she had to run to a friend's house for a minute.
Her mom said, "Okay, hurry back; dinner will be ready in an hour." Okay, Sofia responded.
Meanwhile, Sofia was a little blonde bombshell. Her Mom and Dad had another baby, a boy. A little brother who Sofia just adored so much. He was now a 5-year-old little man. Her parents didn't know much about what was going on with Sofie at high school. At her age, she was very secretive, as most teenagers are. They thought she was a good girl, and she was determined to keep it that way.
However, her body changed, and with many school challenges, it caused her to overeat. By the time she graduated, she was a good 30 lbs overweight, and her pants size was a 12.
She looked at a cartoon commercial on TV; of the Pillsbury doughboy, and she thought to herself, 'that's me, the Pillsbury dough girl, Ugg!'
Suddenly, her parents got a call one afternoon. Her grandmother was sick and thus was sent to the hospital. All the family gathered, wishing her well and sending flowers and cards. Sofia always loved her grandmother, spending many summers with her while school was out, and was deeply concerned. Her grandmother's condition got stable, but the Doctors decided to have her remain in the hospital, doing additional tests and checking on other things. Sofia asked for details, but they were tight-lipped on any specifics.
Later that week, she checked her weight using an online app. Her being 5 foot 6 feet tall, she weighed 170 pounds, and her BMI read 27.4, she was overweight for her size. She wanted her BMI to be at the most 20. She would have to lose a whopping 40 lbs.! Sofia began a conscious effort to get this under control, seriously strongly determined to do it.
Life went back to routine - she began to work out and check in on her grandmother's condition from time to time. That Sunday, suddenly, she passed away. It was a tough time, everyone was crying, and Sofia was too. They buried her grandmother in a beautiful casket. She couldn't go to the gravesite; it hurt too much. She told her parents, "I'll do it at another time." Of course, they let her grieve how she wanted to, and she appreciated them for that.
Boxing club opportunity
Trace was now 18 and a year out of high school. His life was usual for a young black kid at his age. Both boys and girls were getting into each other (literally) and doing other things like sports, social clubs, and moving on to college. That was a strong year for education among black people nationwide. His instructors were involved with the Chicago boxing academy and said he had good power. Trace knew it felt good to get out his frustrations by hitting a bag or sparring with the guys.
He was a muscular burgeoning young man by now. Trey David didn't get involved in attempting college just yet; he just concentrated on a little side job and boxing.
One afternoon his boxing instructor asked him if he was serious about boxing.
"Why are you asking me if I am serious when you already know?" Trace responded.
" After I say this, we will see if you are or not." There was a pause and then silence, then he told him, "You need dancing lessons," his instructor said.
He fell over laughing; after recovering and facing him again, he said, "Are you insane."
" Look, you're a guy with good power, but many fellas have. What makes the difference?" He asked. Then there was silence again, waiting for him to answer, but Trace didn't have an answer for him.
He said, "footwork man, footwork.' If we're going, to be honest with ourselves, this is what you need to be good at; to be great at boxing. Now don't answer; please go and sleep on it. He turned around and left him there alone, walking away swiftly.
That night he got on his computer, then YouTube, and watched all the boxing greats, like Ali, Frazer, Rocky Marciano, Larry Holmes, and Lenox Lewis. You could hardly see Joe Lewis's old film, and of course, Iron Mike Tyson. Trace had to admit it, but Gus, the boxing instructor, was right. He didn't know if he wanted to be a world champion like these guys but had to admit that he needed dancing lessons.
