I am a typical broke and starving college student in the United States. The economy is terrible and part-time jobs for high school graduates are rare. I am too lazy to serve fast food, and I doubt I will look good in a hairnet. I took these factors into mind when considering careers.

I had heard of “cam girls” from my job reviewing various sex toys from different websites. I was semi-accustomed to talking about toys and describing their use to an audience in my online video reviews. So why not go a step further, and not only describe the toys but use them on myself? From what I could tell, these girls made money by twirling their hair and masturbating in their bedrooms.
My thoughts shocked even myself; after all, I was raised in a small Mormon town where even the word “sex” is dirty. Even though I was raised outside the faith, this prudent behavior infiltrated my youth. I was taught that to be normal one must be with boys, one must get married, and one must have those three children while their grandparents are still young enough to hold them!

When I moved away to college I found myself questioning these beliefs, I didn’t like the boys I was supposed to. Instead, I was drawn to cute lesbian “boi’s” with punk rock hair and suspenders. I took a trip across Europe and slept with anyone who bought me enough drinks, and I learned that sexuality is not black and white.

I came back to the States ready to tote a rainbow flag with me to class and sit in solidarity with other protesters against Prop Eight. Strangely enough, it seemed like I had missed all the controversy and was stuck in a time where protesting is considered too extreme, but being out and proud just isn’t done.

I found an internship position at the local Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual and Transgendered resource center, and even though I loved working among people I felt comfortable with, the job was an unpaid position. I was getting calls from my parents everyday urging me to find a job, and with all the OCCUPY movements going on at my campus there was no work to be found.

I am a consummately lazy person, and I wasted away the last of my savings sitting around at home and eating everything in the fridge. When I finally ran out of money, (last week) I realized that I had to do something fast. I snooped around on the internet and asked a few close internet friends what the best ways to make money online are. The answers were all the same, sell your stuff on Craigslist or sell your body as a cam girl. I have crappy furniture that I have accumulated from various yard-sales over the years. They only hold a place in my heart because of the simple fact that they’re mine, the first furniture I have ever owned. No one would want my old moldy bookshelves or my couch filled, not with stuffing, but with Top-Ramon. I figured I had to sell the only thing I owned which wasn’t sagging or moth eaten; my breasts.

After a little research, I figured out that all that you need to be a cam girl is a lot of makeup, some signature moves, props, and a whole lot of sex toys. I watched some other girl’s acts, and after a lot of visuals of breast rubbing and lip biting I figured I was up to the job.

I created an account and was ready for my foray into the steamy sexual pit that is late night internet. I listed myself as “shaved, short nailed and brunette.” My account was live. All I had to do was add pictures to tempt the types of clientele I wanted.

After trying out many different poses and discarding the millions of pictures I deemed unflattering, I was stuck with a few pictures that I could use to tease and tempt online men. Posing in cheap lingerie in front of my shower curtain brought back old, stale memories of the risqué MySpace pictures of my extreme youth.

I was surprised by many things on my first venture into the online sex industry. First of all, those creepy, balding, middle aged men–although present–didn’t stampede my page in staggering numbers. Rather, the majority of the clients were semi-attractive men in their thirty’s who simply wanted anal sex and couldn’t get their girlfriend’s compliance. A few guys were sweet and told me they simply wanted to watch me make myself “cum”, while others were a bit more brisk and wanted me to put my toy whip to use.

I listened to Lady Gaga, danced around in lingerie, and masturbated. This is what I typically do anyways on a Saturday night, but with the addition of giant bowls of ice-cream and comfortable P-J’s. I stayed online for seventeen minutes and ended up making eighteen dollars. I made ninety-eight cents a minute, and men gave me tips for showing my tits.

I rubbed lube on toys and played with my leather whip, I felt powerful and sexy as men paid to see my body. I was in control behind the screen and these men knew it, they begged to see my feet, my back and my ass, and I reveled in the attention. When I closed my computer I expected to feel degraded and a tiny bit ashamed. My feminist side should have been clamoring for me to shower off the shame of being paid for, but honestly I can’t stop thinking of all the cheap noodles and coffee I can buy with eighteen bucks.