My failure at modeling school
When I was a young teen, I was asked to be a bridesmaid in my brother's wedding. My mother choose that summer to send me to the Barbizon Modeling School in Providence. She was hoping it would make me more feminine.
I learned how to stand and walk, paint my face and nails, all the good stuff. At luchtime, I usually ate with a batch of the other girls from the school; we were given a two hour lunch break. Most of the others were courtesans whose agents had sent them to clean off the street look.
Whle we were eating, a man came up to us. He wanted to talk to me. he offered me money to get in his car. one of the other girls knew him. She said he was a nice guy. He said he just wanted some help to buy his daughter a present. When he opened his wallet, I saw apicture of his daughter. she went to another private school in the area. I had met her at a city-wide Latin contest.
I knew what he really wnated. I didn't go with him.
I recently found those headshots from the summer of '84. They show a frightened and painted child.
That's only part of the reason I dress to disappear.
I learned how to stand and walk, paint my face and nails, all the good stuff. At luchtime, I usually ate with a batch of the other girls from the school; we were given a two hour lunch break. Most of the others were courtesans whose agents had sent them to clean off the street look.
Whle we were eating, a man came up to us. He wanted to talk to me. he offered me money to get in his car. one of the other girls knew him. She said he was a nice guy. He said he just wanted some help to buy his daughter a present. When he opened his wallet, I saw apicture of his daughter. she went to another private school in the area. I had met her at a city-wide Latin contest.
I knew what he really wnated. I didn't go with him.
I recently found those headshots from the summer of '84. They show a frightened and painted child.
That's only part of the reason I dress to disappear.