Yesterday, I lost it. I really, really lost it. Everything that had been building up came up in choking burps, the pieces I’ve been holding down in my gut and had to come back. They rolled into a ball and I couldn’t digest it any longer. I had a good cry, and once I started, it wouldn’t stop.
It’s been what seems like forever since I haven’t been able to slide into something, even temporarily, to support myself. Even if they’re small, the paychecks come in. I realized that the money I’ve been making has backlogged into a chunk of dough I’m owed, but don’t know when I’ll see. It’s the nature of the contracts I work. I get paid when they get paid, trickling down through the pipeline that sometimes gets clogged by lost paperwork and delayed mail systems.
I realized just how much I don’t fit in. I stand out like the girl I am who talks different, dresses different, thinks different, and sees the world through a different perspective. I’m the odd man out. The girls I worked with for the liquor promotion were getting together last night for a girl’s night in at an apartment. I wanted so badly to be there, but it didn’t make sense to drive all the way to Dallas. Gas prices are far too outrageous. There are fashion meet-ups and networking opportunities, but I have to pick and choose cautiously for the same reason. I felt left out.
There’s no denying that being a model, spokes model, and promotional model is highly competitive and opportunity is given based on looks. Ability lets you keep a job, but your face gets you through the door for the chance at it. I haven’t felt pretty lately. My body is soft where I don’t want it to be, I’ve been trying to figure out if I should cut my hair again or let it grow, if I should keep it black or go back to blonde as the roots begin to show, and my skin doesn’t seem to be as clear and tan as in the summer. I had a ‘fat day.’
Combine and mix with too much time on my hands, and it was recipe for my breakdown.
But I got it out, gave up to the river of feelings, and ended the day talking to my guy about all sorts of things.
In the morning, I cautiously started the day, trying to forgive myself for the puffy eyes I’d created.
But things were actually better. I don’t know if it was me, or the circumstances. But I felt a small piece of direction. I finished the article I was working on and submitted it to the waiting magazine editor, ran outside in the morning sunshine with my dog who was all too grateful to go along, took a long shower, found inspiration for the book I’ve been wanting to begin, lined up a few more work prospects/pending projects, and found myself in a good enough mood to play a practical joke on one of my boyfriend’s friends. I ended the night starting to put together a modeling portfolio of photos, and seeing what I still need. Then, lining up photo shoots to get them.
I actually passed the day with something filling. I’ve been so hungry for it…
It’s been what seems like forever since I haven’t been able to slide into something, even temporarily, to support myself. Even if they’re small, the paychecks come in. I realized that the money I’ve been making has backlogged into a chunk of dough I’m owed, but don’t know when I’ll see. It’s the nature of the contracts I work. I get paid when they get paid, trickling down through the pipeline that sometimes gets clogged by lost paperwork and delayed mail systems.
I realized just how much I don’t fit in. I stand out like the girl I am who talks different, dresses different, thinks different, and sees the world through a different perspective. I’m the odd man out. The girls I worked with for the liquor promotion were getting together last night for a girl’s night in at an apartment. I wanted so badly to be there, but it didn’t make sense to drive all the way to Dallas. Gas prices are far too outrageous. There are fashion meet-ups and networking opportunities, but I have to pick and choose cautiously for the same reason. I felt left out.
There’s no denying that being a model, spokes model, and promotional model is highly competitive and opportunity is given based on looks. Ability lets you keep a job, but your face gets you through the door for the chance at it. I haven’t felt pretty lately. My body is soft where I don’t want it to be, I’ve been trying to figure out if I should cut my hair again or let it grow, if I should keep it black or go back to blonde as the roots begin to show, and my skin doesn’t seem to be as clear and tan as in the summer. I had a ‘fat day.’
Combine and mix with too much time on my hands, and it was recipe for my breakdown.
But I got it out, gave up to the river of feelings, and ended the day talking to my guy about all sorts of things.
In the morning, I cautiously started the day, trying to forgive myself for the puffy eyes I’d created.
But things were actually better. I don’t know if it was me, or the circumstances. But I felt a small piece of direction. I finished the article I was working on and submitted it to the waiting magazine editor, ran outside in the morning sunshine with my dog who was all too grateful to go along, took a long shower, found inspiration for the book I’ve been wanting to begin, lined up a few more work prospects/pending projects, and found myself in a good enough mood to play a practical joke on one of my boyfriend’s friends. I ended the night starting to put together a modeling portfolio of photos, and seeing what I still need. Then, lining up photo shoots to get them.
I actually passed the day with something filling. I’ve been so hungry for it…
