Prologue
Everything was chaos around me. The photographer was preparing his camera, the director of the snapshot was screeching at everyone. My personal assistant, Tim, was moving my blood red waist length hair over my right shoulder. Assistants and workers buzzed around the shoot area.
"Okay... Now!" A quick, blinding light dazed me for a moment, but i kept my position sturdy and smile intact. Many pictures were taken next. Snap. Snap. Snap. Snap.
"Your doin' beautifully, sweetie!" Tim cheered with his lisp. I blocked everyone else out. It was only me and the camera.
Soon enough, we were finished. Yes! This was the last shoot that I was asked to do in New York! Being a model was intense business. And made me come to realize that those who choose to go the anorexic route almost... Give in. The give in to the pressure, and they give in to the greed of being one of the top models.
All they had to see were those at the tippy top of the food chain, and how unrealistically thin they were, and BAM the idea that to be successful in this, you had to be a stick. With no meat, only thin, fake tanned skin and scrawny bones.
The only problem with this vision that you had to be anorexic is me. Instead of having no meat, I was full of it. Now, don't get me wrong here, I am not fat. Just voluptuous. I even eat a balanced meal! I mange to work in chocolate, ice cream and chips! But instead of starving myself, I work out. I run, and can play pretty much any sport known to man!
I think that is why people pick me for their magazines. Like food magazines, sport illustrated, and other cooking and athletic papers. Its because I actually have tone to my body, and legs. My cheeks are full instead of sunken in and hollow.
Also unlike other desperate models, I never will do a nude shot. Nope. I refuse the money, and the option. Im not going to be put with no clothes on in a magazine so that old giezers, middle aged men, and teenagers can gawk at me. No way, man. No way.
Now, after finishing my swimsuit shot for sports illustrated, I put my sunglasses on, shrugged a crop top on, and slipped on some shorts. Sliding into a pair of plastic flip-flops on my perfectly manicured feet, I strolled out of the building. I held up the peace sign at Tim as goodbye, and hopped right into the limo that was waiting on me.
"Hey Charles! What's shakin' bacon?" I asked the driver.
"Nothin' much Poppy. Where to?"
"Home." I told him with a smile.
"Home to Mystic Falls." I elaborated.