And I do my little turn on the catwalk
NS May 13th, 2007
I spent yesterday afternoon posing for a professional photographer. Commands to show teeth, laugh, be serious, sit up straight, stick my boobs out, lean on my elbow or swivel sideways were foreign to me, and uproarious. Every pose and every instruction made embarrassed tittering escape my lips. Jen, who was with me for this strange session, shared in the moments of hilarity. We fake posed with the best of them. I was just waiting for the Danish-born photographer to start shouting “Give me pouty! Sexy! You are an animal. Let me hear you rrrrrroar. Now laugh, damnit!” At one point, grins plastered on our faces and exchanging sarcastic remarks out of the corner of our motionless mouths, Jen quipped “I feel like we should be walking down a beach discussing that ‘not so fresh’ feeling.” After that, the beseeching was no longer necessary, the laughter was genuine.
All of this took place at an American diner in Soho, replete with shiny red barstools, chrome countertop, mini jukeboxes, black and white checkerboard floors and employees flipping burgers wearing those white, pointy, paper hats. I half expected the Fonz to walk through the door. I even got to sip on a real strawberry milkshake, fountain Coke and eat a Big Bubba burger and onion rings. Obviously, the whole ‘eating healthily’ thing was out the window for this occasion.
What was all of this for, you may be wondering? The photo is to go alongside an article Prima magazine are doing on female bloggers. They are profiling three women. For some reason, one of them happens to be me. I did a telephone interview back in early April and can hardly remember what I said. That, along with the cheesy photo that is sure to accompany it, has me sweating a bit. Will I sound like an idiot and look like one too? Has anyone in God’s green earth ever rambled on for so long as to make her interviewer desire nothing more than to stab herself in the eye repeatedly with a corn-on-the-cob holder thingy and then get to work on her ears with an olive fork? If so, I think I’d give them a run for their money.
The article comes out in a couple months. Keep your fingers crossed that yours truly isn’t featured on the pages of a national mag looking and/or sounding like a character from Deliverance.
So Amity you are going from typical suburban housewife to potentially a celebrity housewife. In your terms I guess life is looking up. However hopefully you will not forget the important things.
Way to have some balls and give your name, Anonymous. I’m pretty sure I know who you are anyway.
Suck it. I ain’t a typical anything.