1, 2, 3
the bitch don’t work
she just don’t work
the bitch don’t work
she just don’t work
oh la la la la la la la la
the bitch don’t work
the bitch looks fat (the bitch don’t work)
sure of that (the bitch don’t work)
get off my back (the bitch don’t work)
yeah the bitch looks fat (the bitch don’t work)
oh la la la la la la la la
she’s in the sack
so long
1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7 (1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7)
8, 9, 10, 11
the bitch don’t work (the bitch don’t work)
——————————————————————————–
When I stopped talking to Craig earlier, I really was planning on going to bed, but then it began. I have a modeling shoot on Wednesday, and I felt the need to share what goes into this, at least for me.
Some women model because it makes them feel appreciated and beautiful. Some women model because they have low self esteem and feel it is the only way they can get by in life, is by their looks. Some do it because they are exhibitionists and camera whores. Others do it because they need the money and short of straight out street walking, stripping in clubs, or working for an escort service, this is the best way to do it. I happen to be all of the above.
I have a shoot in two days, which means the possibility of a few hundred dollars if things go well. A few hundred dollars is as much as I make in a month without a shoot, so this is a big deal for me. A very big deal. An obsession, even. As I see it, this is the only way to get myself ahead again, back as a \”working girl\” instead of on disability assistance. I may not be able to sit at a desk for forty hours a week, but I can take my clothes off and strut around like I am possessed for four hours and earn the exact same salary. And I happen to be one of the ones who can keep my dignity while doing it, and enjoy it, so while the hell not?
But the anxiety involved is overwhelming. Every first shoot is just like an interview, and having not had one in two years, I am as anxious as a stay-at-home mother reentering the work force. As soon as I had the session booked, I started my preparations. Considering what goes into them, I cannot believe I used to do this several times a week, if not every day, just to be able to personally please myself. Now it is all just for the camera, and the bucks. The green backs to live on, dammit, because I am a whore. I whore my body. So what? You find another way out of the adult entertainment industry that I can make enough money in order to continue to live in this area, and I will do it. I bet you a full shoot\’s compensation that you would not be able to find me a position. I have tried, and cannot.
So preparation is as follows: two days before the shoot begins, on top of the daily vitamin and water regimen is added massive amounts of green tea to flush the system. All that is consumed are vegetables. Fruit has too much sugar which can cause too harsh a come down, and as someone who is carbohydrate sensitive, I have to avoid gluten products in order to keep from losing my energy. Meat and dairy, on the other hand, are also ruled out, because they digest more slowly and thus can leave you belly-heavy. So vegetables it is.
One day before the shoot begins the heavy use of prescription laxatives and diuretics, just to make sure every last available ounce is squeezed out before the camera adds another ten pounds to me. During this time, all that is consumed is aforementioned water and green tea, and the only vegetables allowed are celery and lettuce, as they are mostly water. Yes, folks, this is what is called unhealthy, but to what lengths would you go to pay your rent? Think about it.
A week before the scheduled shoot, the daily exercise routine is lessened to make sure I do not have a relapse, and is therefore reduced to yoga stretches and crunches. My skin is exfoliated with beaded soap and a strong loofah every day, then followed up with a thick moisturizer. My facial skin is subjected to a base exfoliation, then wiped with a Clyndamyacin pledglet. Then, an intricate process is undertaken which involves using my fingernails to squeeze the pores on my Jewish nose. My nose being of the type it is, those pore-clearing strips do nothing for me as the pores there are so wide and deep. I get to watch the tiny little postules squeeze out of tiny section after tiny section of my nose, as I wipe them away with hydrogen peroxide. Once I am convinced my nose is clear and nothing else can be pushed out, it is again exfoliated and followed up with Metrogel to soothe the aggravated, rosacea inflicted skin.
Teeth are vigorously flossed, scrubbed, and subjected to different home bleaching processes, but then, this is an ongoing activity to keep me always ready for a shoot. Two different kinds of toothpaste, dental tape instead of floss, and a thick swirling of heavy mouthwash always follows… and is then repeated. One can never be too sure.
The afternoon before the shoot, a warm shower is luxuriated in before \”all unnecessary body hair is removed,\” like in the Tank Girl movie. Pluck, trim, shave, but don\’t wax because it makes my skin bleed. Therefore that entails plucking the areas around my eyes, and using a razor to shave everything from the eyes, down. Try shaving from your toes to your nose in one go (which it has to be, to make sure nothing is there), while managing to remove every stray hair even around your asshole, and see how well you fare. This takes mad skills, and I have been perfecting them since I was fourteen. (Don\’t ask.)
Now that my body is hairless, it has to be moisturized, but not with the regular oatmeal moisturizer, but with the high end white gardenia moisturizer from Japan that leaves your skin literally glistening if you smooth it on properly to damp skin and then gently dab yourself dry. This happens the day of the shoot as well, to continue to maintain that unnaturally healthy glow. Now that we have Photoshop, I don\’t understand why I feel the need to do this, but I still do.
Once moisturized, it is time for hair and nails. Being broke ass poor, I have to do them myself, and having unsteady hands, this takes hours. If there is no stylist provided at the shoot this leads to a further nightmare, as it takes me forever to do my make up.
Now, understand, this is for a photo shoot. I will maybe be doing these once or twice a week, by the way things are lining up. That will not be so bad. But I used to go through this process every day, and if I did not, I would not step foot out of my front door because I thought I was too gross to be seen in public.
Here is the sticking point: what changed my low self image and constant need for high maintenance and make up and such was, in fact, modeling. I did a shoot in which I sat in a bath tub for two hours, soaking wet, make up running down my face until it eventually came off. When I got those photos back a month later, I realized I liked those more than the high maintenance ones. Bare minimalism started to look as sexy to me as full drag queen regalia. Please do not get me wrong — I am not the type to play to the hippie and junkie stereotype of no self maintenance, but I have reached the point where, much to my boyfriend\’s dismay, I rarely wear make up again, because I think it looks awful on me. I would rather see my face. With the make up, I feel like I am wearing a mask.
And so, that is what modeling is to me: a mask to put on to pay the bills, just like most people need to put on a tie, or a helmet, or an anti-static bracelet. It is just a job. Granted, it is a job that pays well, puts my naked body on display for the whole world to see, gets me incredibly sexually aroused, and does amazing things for my self esteem, but then it could simply be said that, hey — I like my job.
But right now, I just want to eat some Ben\’s Chili Bowl. Drat.
