Modeling is Cardio

The British Elle shoot was alternately thrilling, surreal and surprisingly arduous. I mugged on a bed in Soho, did the naughty secretary thing at a desk, and posed with a rhinestone-encrusted riding crop from Agent Provocateur. My ass is actually sore this morning from all the hip-thrusting and pose-holding-- it's like doing squats and lunges in couture. The threads were dynamite (turns out queeny old Michael Kors can really cut a skirt) but the stilettos did a number on me. My dogs are barkin', kids. This is why I stick to Cons, Vans, Fryes, and all other one-syllable footwear.

So you know how Tyra Banks is always telling girls to "hunch their shoulders" and "make it a little ugly" in high-fashion shots? Yesterday, while they were photographing me at the desk, I decided to test the effectiveness of this tactic. I did a Quasimoto and pouted at the (excellent) photographer. "GREAT!" he yelped. "Hold that. Right there!" Enthusiastic rapid-fire flashes.

And get this: Dude proceeded to voice his approval every time I did the "Tyra Hunch" over the next five hours. So TyTy actually knows what she's doing, modeling-wise. Huh.

I actually had a dialogue loop from ANTM running in my brain the entire time, which is just sad. I remembered to keep my hands pretty, relax my mouth, and keep my eyes looking lively, rather than pained. I figured this valuable TV-gleaned knowledge could be adequate recompense for my jelly belly and DIY haircut. Did I mention I couldn't fit in two out of the three skirts they brought? I tried to play it off all cute, like "Guess I need to lay off the Krispy Kremes." Nobody laughed. In the Elle universe, if you're not emaciated, you're fatally obese. They might as well airlift you out of your house on Dr. Phil and whisk you to a special in-patient facility, lest you consume another atom of toxic nourishment.

'Course, a wiffle-bat-sizedmedia noche and fries was probably not the most prudent pre-shoot meal.

So, yeah. That was cool.

I'm working on my second book now, and every time I blog, I feel like I'm leaking precious petrol. Must funnel energy into actual paying venture! But blogging is...I don't know, special. You know what I mean? No editors, and I can post naked pictures whenever. That's a gift, y'all. Thank you, Internet.