But people have always told me that I have a nice smile and that I am lucky to be tall. So in my late twenties, that got me believing that maybe I could be a model!
OK. So, maybe more like a plus-size model with a casual look considering there is nothing unique or exotic about my alarmingly gargantuan muddy brown eyes, my very small lips and my upturned nose. Let’s not forget thinning hair, with split ends and “lovely” lady lumps in all the wrong places. Even in my late-20's. (Things were only going to get worse after kids, BTW. Sigh.)
All that aside though, I thought – let’s just give it a try – I see some models that aren’t skinny Crawford material. Maybe I could model for an ad for depression meds, or a diet program or something with a more natural fit for me. Ya know...kind of work my way onto the scene.
Now as you read on, remember these were the days before selfies and vlogging and YouTube and Snapchat and everything else that can put your face in front of millions, if you so choose, right from the palm of your hand.
OK. So it is 1990-whatever and I went to a open call at a NY agency for plus-size models. I walked into the room wearing a black dress, heels and my biggest model-like smile. They looked at me for four-point-five-seconds and said “you’re too thin.” Holy shit! Come again – what?! No one ever said that about me. Not even when I was like, a toddler.
Well now! Since they didn’t say I was hideous, I took this as my opportunity to gain a little weight before going back and trying again and decided to just eat everything on the face of the earth.
Feeling good and plump and even a little pretty, I went back months later and many pounds heavier.
When I walked in, I saw the same people at the casting table and was flattered that they remembered me. The one woman looked at my headshot (which was an untouched selfie, printed out at a local CVS. It was poorly lit and looked like something on the cutting room floor of a bad 80's porn. I had no experience on my resume. Well, except for modeling as a hand model for my cousin when she was taking an entry-level art class in college. Yea, um, so not a professional grade portfolio here).
They all looked at their papers and at each other and I swear the one guy even rolled his eyes. The woman with a lips so puffy it looked like she just got punched in the face and I wasn't even sure they would part when she spoke, looked at me and mumbled...or, um said “Sorry, you are too short.”
Fucking great! Couldn’t they have told me THAT first? So now I was 15 pounds overweight and not on any road to being famous. And what the hell could I do about being too short?!
Oh fuck them. Humph. I don't think Hollywood could handle me anyway.
I walked out of the building and headed back home with a plan to eat ice cream while wearing stilettos.