deadline for confidence: march 30

the agency just called. yikes. they're having a photographer take pictures at the end of the month. "we need new pictures. we have none. are you intrested?" and i said yes. what did i just do?

its been like four years since i've done anything. my first photo shoot ever, with liberty house, was almost enough to make me quit. i walked in there thinking "okay, they know i'm new, they know this is my first one, they'll help me out. they'll help me out, right?" nope. no, sir. there i am standing on this platform. everything looking exactly like it does on t.v.. the big lights. the white backdrop. the photographer. the make-up artists and the fashion editors standing all around. this aint like taking graduation pictures. no "turn here, look there". just snap snap snap snap. i looked like a complete idiot. the girl next to me, paula, an english model, she had it down. one move of the head, another of a leg. look up, smile. look to the left, smile. me, total panic. whatdoidowhatdoidowhatdoido. omigod. what the fuck am i supposed to do? omigod, i'm not cut out for this. i am not fucking cut out for this. thats all i could think. the photographer said not one word to me the whole time. no words of encouragement. no direction. just snap snap snap. i almost died of a heart attack.

then once i did a fashion show for the governor's fashion awards at the hilton. there was this super long white catwalk. i had two outfits. first one went fine. run backstage. total chaos. change. run back. walk to the end . turn. walk back. easy enough, right? no, of course not, this is ME we're talking about. its walk to the end, turn, have your heel slip out of your three inch pumps and try to walk the rest of the catwalk while trying to slip your heel back in and looking like a complete wobbling idiot. maybe they didn't notice.

those are some of the fond memories i have of modeling. my hair was short back then. like really short. it had been long to the middle of my back and then one day out of the blue i saw a benneton ad in a magazine while shopping at ala moana shopping center. it was of a chinese girl with a short messy style sort of like halle berry. i immediately walked accross the street to where paul brown's salon used to be and told the first stylist i saw, "i want my hair to look like this". then thats how it all started. after a series of events i got an agent and started modeling.

it was fun. i liked it for the most part, but theres not much you can do on a tiny island. a tiny island with tons of beautiful women. the hardest thing was watching what i ate because if you know me, you know that i can eat. as with many things, alot of it was mental too. well, with me it was. you have to have rock solid confidence and sense of self. you're constantly being put in situations where you're competing with 100 other beautiful girls for the same job and you're being critiqued by editors, directors, and the like for nothing else but your outside appearance. and they can be mean. and they can tell with one look if they want you. then its a smile and a "thank you. NEXT."

so why would i want to have to start running again, watching what i eat, build my confidence and head out to those cattle calls once more?

pffft. to make regg sorry of course. like, duh!