Backstory: I have been obsessed and dependant for most of my life on the fashion industry. Like most people
I get that
I know and am aware that it’s a huge ocean of an art form that many people wish to be apart of.
I wasted/gaveup/lived an amazing life so far. I lived off and on in other states and countries to be apart of the fashion industry. When I was around 15 years old I was scouted to be in a local utah modeling agency. Within months I was in training classes and being mailed off to California, to meet with agents. (this is YEARS so I am not going into more detail) then to NY then to italy.
All within my teen years.
It was the only thing I thought I had the ability to do.
hated school. Everyone feels bullied, I felt like all my flaws were on display. All over my face, skin. Scars. Fne hair. Large teeth. No bust. No meat. Nothing. A skull covered in makeup with a skeleton to carry it.. I don’t ever recall anyone ever challenging me either. This massive tall, blonde 16 year old in heels, walks into a room. Pointy lips and a nasty glare.
Supposed owner on the universe. Bursts into a deep raspy laugh.
I wish more people would have given me the chance. Im pretty much the biggest lovely, weirdie freak. Really.
Class clown material.
All I wanted was to make people laugh and be generally happy.
But that came with flaws. “no one can alllways be that happy”
I can. I thought I could.
I thought I could have the world on a plate with striking intimidations and good conversations.
In the end I felt as if I was
Just a face
On a tall, lerpy body
And if people got to know me,
I was well informed on how “weird” and “random” I am
I accept it.
But I spent so long wanting to create a presence to stop people in their tracks
I forgot to find that in other people
I became fearless and bored with everyone else
After my adventures
I realized I needed to find others that wanted to make ME happy.
That could be my muse, a person for me to admire.
i hopped around person to person. Trying to be content and excited.
Nothing. I was too far down in the fear of people disliking and judging this massive skeleton girl.
Puberty got the best of me. And by 20 I was finally getting hips and a cup size. I looked real.
Which lost most of my jobs. Italy hated my new god given curves.
So I started to despise food.
It needed to stop. I needed to be happy.