Another favorite from the OEN archives.
What? I’m dead serious. I could SO be a model, if I really wanted to.
You know that Katherine Heigl girl? Izzy Stevens, aka “Dr. Model” on Grey’s Anatomy? Well I look exactly like her.
Ok, sure, I know I’m not all model skinny. I mean, I’d have to lose fifteen pounds. Twice. But other than that, I look just like her. The similarities are eerie. Or they would be, if I were blonde. And had better hair. And maybe if I were a little taller.
It would also help
if I were pretty. Then I would be the It model. Forget
So the skinny thing, and the pretty thing. Those are the only two tiny little things keeping me from a fantastic career in modeling, and then retiring at the old age of 32 to become a judge on America’s Next Top What’s Her Name Again?, cycle 27 and making mad whoopie with Nigel on top of the judging table.
Dude, it could sooo happen.
You still don’t believe that I can be a model, do you? Well I’ll have you know that when Barbie and I went to watch the girls auditioning for America’s Next Top Fugger, there was a lovely young man with a clipboard who came over and asked us if we were models. Being the smart cookie I am, I did not trust this young fellow and therefore asked to see an application. He stammered and asked for our phone numbers so he could send us applications. But the clipboard!! HE HAD A CLIPBOARD. THAT MUST MEAN HE HAD SOME SORT OF MODEL-MAKING POWER.
That’s ok, I can
become a model on my own. I don’t need Mr.
Ohhh crap. The hips! Because, like, I have them. Damnit. Okay well they can airbrush those out. And while they’re tinkering with my photos, they can also clear up my skin. So many pimples, where the hell do they come from?. Oh and that mole. It’s gotta go. Not the discolored one on my shoulder, the other one–no, not that one, the big one. The one with the hairs growing out of it. They may need to fix the eyes too. One is a different color than the other one. Dunno, birth defect yada yada the doctor said it wasn’t that big a deal and eventually they’d be able to focus on the same thing without one veering to the left.
Also, my lips are kind of thin. Not very DSL-y at all. I can’t afford collagen injections, at least not yet, not until I sign my huge modeling contract. So until then, I suppose I’ll have to pinch my lips repeatedly to make them puff up. Or maybe I can have a dear friend punch me in the mouth every day to give me big luscious lips. Oh yes, that’s brilliant. I’ll have to remember that tip for when I write my first book, I Am So Much Prettier Than You: How to Look More Like Me Without Being a Reality TV Show Victim.
I’d need to buy boobs, of course. The ones I have now are lovely, but they don’t compare to the twin Heigls on the cover of Maxim. –looks down at breastises– Okay so that’s one, well, two little things that aren’t exactly model-ish either. Hmm.
Did I mention my toes? I forgot my toes. I would need toe replacement surgery. My little piglets are not the cutest things to get bright red nail polish slapped on them haphazardly (not to worry, I can pay someone to do all that for me once I get my big modeling contract). But glittery paint can only do so much. I need model toes. Make that model feet. My feet are kinda wide. And they sweat a lot. I can’t have sweaty feet. Not to worry, I can pay someone to find a way to make me stop sweating.
Okay, I hear all you bitches out there laughing at me. That’s rather rude, don’t you think? If the skeezey guy with the clipboard at the mall thought I was a model, I could be a model. Well, you know, except for that whole super skinny pretty thing. That’s a bit of a pisser.
Fine, maybe you would be able to see my modeling potential if you just closed your eyes. Then I look exactly like Katherine Heigl.
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