A Moment with the Models
As I ventured to the toilets yesterday morning, after the usual over consumption of caffeinated beverages, my self esteem puddled up on the floor.
For people that know me well – this is a hard thing to accomplish – I am known as being over confident as I am usually the girl admiring her booty as I shake it in the mirror and freely prance around naked not giving a shit what anyone thinks.
One of my favourite designers Ginger & Smart is located smack bang next to my office giving me a great sneak peek into the latest designs.
So the ‘incident’ as I will call, occurred as I waltzed past their office and became aware that they were casting for the upcoming fashion week and I was surrounded with some of the most genetically blessed creatures I have ever seen – supermodels.
I don’t know where they hide because there is no way in hell you could miss these women yet I never seem to spot them out and about – actually that’s probably just because they don’t need to eat or drink – the normal human functions that plague the rest of us mere mortals.
With the combination of working in the media industry and dabbling in the modelling industry myself after high school I am well aware of the way the industry works and have been exposed to celebrities and models before.
But these were supermodels. Having only seen Naomi Campbell before – who is let’s face it, past her prime and a reasonably normal size – my exposure to models has been limited to those in the B grade who mostly don’t look any better than the amazing women I am out with or when 18 and on shoots they weren’t that much skinnier or taller than me and just seemed to sit around and drink coffee all day– this is the time that I did have my prided 18 year old body – which I didn’t appreciate at the time dam it!!!!!!!
At a reasonable 175 cm and at a dress size 8 I would consider myself on the slim side of normal – in comparison to these girls I was a short, squat obese heifer. These girls had legs the size of my wrist and the sample sized dresses hung on them which I guess means they are fulfilling their role as clothes hangers.
Usually a tall girl – I came up to their rib cages and my usually smallish chest seemed robust in comparison to their ironing board chests.
Now these girls didn’t have much in the face department – plain and angular they all looked like they needed a good sleep and the lines etched into their foreheads, the black circles under their eyes and the complete lack of personality and energy was I would guess a direct result from their lifestyle of travelling, judgement, cigarettes, speed and coffee.
Despite the lack of any kind of lustre I wondered why I felt like a fat ugly fool when surrounded by these creatures when usually I feel pretty damn good about myself. These women had long bouncy hair, spoke in exotic accents, wore amazing clothes and smelled pretty. (Not that I usually wear rags or smell like a dog but any whom)
Why did these women create such power over me, why do I see them as mythical creatures who are fun to dress up and look at? Perhaps it simply relates back to my imperatable love of fashion and the fact that they live, breathe and eat it. (Figuratively speaking – they obviously don’t actually eat)
Later on in the day they luckily all disappeared before I became borderline suicidal – and I happily went home in my normal body and ate a plate of cheesy cannelloni, thinking with relish that the supermodels were currently smoking and not much else.
When it comes down to it I am much luckier than any of those girls and so are all of you.
We enjoy food, have happy, healthy lives, have great friendships and relationships and above all, our energy levels are sky high in comparison to these stick insects which gives us the luxury of actually being able to enjoy life.