Page 54 of Size King
I don’t get nervous often. I am usually confident. Whether it is something in my personal life or my career, I always attempt to exude confidence. Even if I don’t wholly believe what I’m telling myself, it feels better to project good vibrations and show good poise than to become overwhelmed by trivial issues with self-esteem or image. I know that abandoning anxiety is key before I even get off the plane. I am determined to start my L.A. journey right.
I grew up on the east coast, living most of my life in New York City. I went to college there, where I met my best friend, Emma Curtis. We were both interested in fashion and event planning, and oddly enough, we became disinterested in those things at about the same time. I chose to stay in college and get my bachelor’s degree. I had already taken a year off after high school, so I was determined to complete it. But Emma decided to leave school after her junior year to pursue a career in modeling.
It is abnormal for someone like Emma, or me for that matter, to attempt to make a living doing modeling work. Emma and I are both heavier than the average woman. We are considered “plus-size,” a label that I don’t mind. I’m not ashamed of my body, nor do I listen to any criticism that is flung my way regarding it.
Emma started modeling within a few months of moving to Los Angeles. She has work nearly every day, and she makes a great living from it. I hadn’t expected her to find many gigs that would specifically seek out plus-sized women, but the need is increasing more each year.
Emma signed with a major plus-sized modeling agency called K-Plus by the time she turned twenty-four, and she is already on several online ads and catalogs, as well as several high-profile photo shoots. After a year of her coaxing me and saying I should come model with her in L.A., I finally folded and decided to make the move. I prefer L.A. to NYC, anyway. Plus, Emma promised me that I would “have modeling work when I arrived” and refused to be any less vague than that. I am extremely curious to know what she is talking about.
The decision isn’t stress inducing in the least. Even if Emma can’t get me a modeling job, I am confident that I can find work. I am a tall—five-nine to be exact—curvy, blonde, with an ample chest and ass, and sharp green eyes. The older I get and the more comfortable with my body I become, I receive less hate and more praise. I know that I have a body that would get me far in the plus-size modeling industry.
So, I took off from JFK, landing safely at LAX. Emma had offered to pick me up at the airport, but LAX is an hour drive from her place. Considering I will be staying at her apartment for several nights for free, I figure I can spend some money on a Lyft and save her the trouble.
I don’t have a place picked out where I want to live yet. I see many gorgeous homes on the Lyft ride from LAX to downtown Los Angeles, realizing that I likely have more options for housing than I expected. I want to have some time to look around and make a good, thoroughly researched decision.
Emma and I are used to staying at each other’s place all the time, so she doesn’t mind me crashing with her for an undetermined amount of time. In fact, she was the one that invited me to stay with her while I search for the perfect job and perfect home. I am happy to take her up on the invitation, and I plan on thanking her by getting her drunk at a nice L.A. bar. It is Saturday, so we expect the place to be packed.
When I pullup to Emma’s apartment, she comes bounding toward me, freaking out and screaming at the top of her lungs. We embrace, hugging each other for several seconds.
“I can’t believe you’re here!” Emma yells.
“I know, me neither!” I reply. “I’m so happy to see you!”
“Look at you!” she says, looking me over. “Your hair looks fuckingamazing.”
“My hair!” I say. “What about yours? This is the longest I’ve ever seen your hair.”
“Yeah, I’ve loved how it looks in photos,” says Emma. “I love your outfit!”
I dressed with the notion that we might go out to drink immediately after I arrive. I am wearing a light, silk blouse with a knee-high black skirt and glittery sandals—the ensemble reveals little skin but makes me look great.
“Thanks,” I say. “Your clothes look nice, too. You look like you’re going somewhere.”
“We’regoing somewhere,” she says with a wink. “I have a short shoot in like thirty minutes over at K-Plus. We need to get going!”
“Wait, what?” I stammer. “I didn’t think you were working today.”
“Tag along!” she suggests. “You want to be a model, don’t you? Come be seen with me. I think it’d be a good idea.”
I am apprehensive because I want to make sure I look appropriate for going to a modeling agency, but I choose not to overthink it. Emma and I are honest with each other, and if she thinks a different look will be better for me, she would tell me.
She drives us from her place to K-Plus. The agency is only a few miles away from her, but with it being in downtown, it’s still a long drive.
I am a bit bashful at first when we arrive at the K-Plus building. Many people stop to say hello to Emma, and I stand behind her awkwardly. I want to be noticed, but I don’t want to be obnoxious and put a stain on Emma’s reputation.
She walks us to the studio where she is getting photographed. Her agent and two managers are there waiting for her.
“I’ll be right back,” Emma whispers to me. “Wait here.”
I stand by, playing on my phone while Emma has a private discussion with the managers. During their talk, I can’t help but notice the managers checking me out. I sometimes smile, but after the fifth time of looking up from my phone to see eyes staring at me, I start ignoring them.
Instead of Emma returning to me, the two managers approach me.
“Excuse me,” one of them says. “Hi!”
“Hello!” I reply.
“We were talking with Emma, as you no doubt saw,” he says. “I know that this may seem out of left field, and you can certainly say no, but we were thinking of offering you the opportunity to be part of our shoot today.”