2003-09-01

Got promotions work with this Image Quest thing. Most of the people doing it are models, including Krazy K, who got me the job. She harassed the the Manager Guy and the Manager Girl and told them I was "sooooo cuuuuute and had suuuuuuch a grrrreeeeaaat personaaaality" and she gave them my headshot. And they hired me. Needless to say, I was extremely nervous about starting. I spent my entire night before wondering if I should chug three gallons of water to flush out my body. I have this theory that if I drink enough water, the fat will somehow disappear. Krazy K kept saying, "Oh, stop it! So what if you aren't a model? You're cute enough to be a model! Stop it! You soooooo are!" Did I mention that Krazy K is annoyingly positive? Because despite that entry where I'm talking about how I'm going to love my size-twelve-itude, I am nowhere near deluded enough to think I'm model material. Hell, even to be a plus-size model, you have to be 5'8- at least. So it really annoys me when Krazy K says crap like that. It feels almost condescending (though I can't say that Krazy K has the self-esteem to be condescending, so where does that leave us? Maybe I just have problems taking compliments).

Anyhow, I was all nervous. I checked my bag again and again to make sure I had my contacts and eye crap because I didn't want to be that chubby girl who also was wearing glasses. I know, I know- love your size-twelve-itude, but DAMMIT! THESE WERE MODELS!!!!! I chainsmoked and chugged water and even ate some raw parsley to see if I could get rid of the water I've been retaining for the past four years. In a nutshell, I regressed to about sixteen, self-image wise.

And for what? For nothing! No one stared at my hips. No one pointed and snickered. I just threw on a Dodgers T-shirt, stood in the middle of a moving crowd and screamed. And you know what? I got as many people to come to the table as the models did when they were hawking. Granted, they stood there in a T-shirt tied above the belly and said nothing and the people came to them. But I made my jokes, made use of my unnaturally loud voice, and the people laughed and I steered them over. And Manager Guy and Manager Girl told Krazy K they loooooved me. Take it, Models! Tie your shirt high, wear your short shorts- go on! But when your finger stops triggering your gag reflex and the stretch marks show up and your producer boyfriend moves on to some nineteen-year-old, I'll still be here!

Okay, I should stop being so mean to models, here. After my experience with Krazy K, I know that most models have virtually no self-esteem.

Anyway, the money should be rolling in any second. Good thing, too. I was getting way sick of eating the eighty pounds of Trader Joe's Organic Wheat Spaghetti I'd picked up when I was still in diet land. Though flavorful, spaghetti is not a good morning food.