Like all young girls, when I was young, I dreamed of one day becoming a model. I wanted to be famous, and I wanted people to do my make-up and hair. I wanted to be near a flash at all times. But as I was growing up, I was always so smart, and so committed. I didn’t want to be smart and/or committed. I wanted to be pretty.
These days, I’m glad to be smart and committed, and I’m glad to have a boyfriend who thinks I’m pretty. But that one dream never went away. I want to be a model. I watch shows like “America’s Next Top Model” and think, “It doesn’t look that hard. The worst thing about it is the other girls attacking you. I can handle the other girls (I did, afterall, grow up in Hulett…).”
I don’t have blonde hair. I’m not tall and shapely. I do, however, have very pretty eyes. And expressive lips. Other than that, there’s not much about me that screams “MODEL!”. Well, I am very thin. But, I’m not the girl who gets admiring looks when I walk into a room. No one seeks me out to tell me I’m gorgeous (besides Kyle, and that’s his job). The only looks I get are when I walk out in a bikini, and most people are probably thinking, “Pale! Thin!”, or when I was “punk”; black eyeliner, black shadow, super short hair, black clothes, and gauges in my ears tend to draw eyes.
But, dang it! I still want to be a model.
(I also want hemp sandals…)