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I must look for any and every possible way to make money. Then, and only then, will I truly be able to keep myself from falling back into this vicious cycle that he always manages to stick me back in.
I walk over to a metal newspaper dispenser outside the diner but find that it’s empty. I guess most of the news is only being published digitally, considering that no one can go anywhere to get a paper or deliver a paper. In the glass looking into the empty box on its front, I catch sight of myself.
Vain as this sound— and trust me when I say that I’m not one to put too much stock into my own looks— I look pretty good. Every now and again, I notice that my face looks particularly nice or a dress hugs my curves the right way, but normally I shrug it off as arrogance.
Today, I need to hear myself echo this in my own mind, because I need to remember how beautiful, and powerful, and unique I am. If I don’t believe in myself— if I buy into all of my father’s bullshit— I’ll never believe I’m worthy of anything more than being slapped in the face as an adult staying under his roof again.
But then the reflection of something behind me catches my eye. It’s a bus bench with a curvy woman lying on her side, advertising something written behind her.
I can’t quite make out the wording from here, and certainly not backwards from such a distance, and so I turn around and look both ways before crossing the street. Only then can I see what it says.
PICTURE PERFECT: Real Models Should Represent Real Women.
It’s a modeling agency.
I immediately pull my cell phone from inside my pocket and begin Googling the company.
“If you are interested in modeling for our agency, please send a headshot via the contact form on our ‘CONTACT US’ page. We prefer women who can represent the average American female, which is above a size 10 waist.”
Well… I think to myself, considering it.
I mean… I am a size 12. And even though my dad has always told me I was too fat to model, Sarah has always made a point of telling me how I should really give it a try, without any prompting from me.
I send her a photo of the bus bunch ad and then a screencap of the agency’s website with the caption, “Should I?”
Two seconds later, I see the three little dots pop up at the bottom of our thread to signify that she’s typing. And then the message comes through, reading:
FUCK YES!
I turn back to the diner and again catch sight of myself in the window. From what I can see, I’m already within the agency’s target demographic of potential models.
Maybe looking good today will put me ahead of the competition.
Chapter Four - Simon
“Could you just pick your head up some?” Tony asks the girl who is standing against the white backdrop that I’m trying to photograph during one of our camera tests with modeling applicants.
“You’re also slouchy a little, my friend,” I say, in as friendly of a way as I know how to, without telling her she’s got the same posture as Lurch from the Munsters.
I can see that she really does think she’s straightening her posture, but what ends up happening is a little more to the opposite extreme and now the poor girl looks like she’s about to do a back handspring.
“Is this any better?” she asks.
If it wasn’t so obviously written on her face, I don’t know whether or not I’d be able to tell if she was being serious.
“It’s…” I struggle to find the words.
“It’s not slouching,” I finally let out.
Tony darts a dirty look toward me.
“Be nice to the girls,” he says. “They’re new and they’re willing to work for no money.”
“Yes, and they’re also talentless hacks,” I mutter back to him. “Plus, I’m pretty sure this one just made history as the first reported case of self-imposed scoliosis.”
Tony snorts and stifles a laugh.
“Don’t waste time laughing. You should be making back-to-back phone calls to the CDC and the National Enquirer.” I tell him. “If it’s a slow day for two-headed chickens, we might see one of these pictures I’m snapping grow up to become a front-page story.”
This is the eighth… “model” — if you can even call them that — that I’ve seen today and each one is getting progressively worse than the one before. Not to mention that they’re all so pale.
However, at Picture Perfect, we put in a real effort to showcase real women of all sizes, sexualities, colors, and every other category that has historically been used to reduce women to a label.
As much as it may seem like we’re just two guys who like to spend our days around attractive women, we actually happen to be staunch feminists who believe in the mission of our company.
