That Time I was in a Modeling Class


September 12, 2013

So I’ve already established that I’m not a soccer mom. But I keep feeling this nagging sensation that I need to enroll my daughter into some extracurricular activity.

I think it’s because when I was younger I was in a ton of stuff.

It was probably because my mom needed a break from my energy.

I was a bit of a handful.

The problem with all my extracurriculars, was that I was never in them long enough to get good or to make friends. I just jumped from thing to thing avoiding recitals or end of the year parties, awkward hand shakes or promises to call over the summer.

Between the ages of 7-10 I was in tap, ballet, softball, gymnastics, piano, and modeling.

The modeling class was the worst. I don’t know what convinced me to sign up for it. It was the early nineties and I was a gawky pre-teen: permed hair and a unibrow, long limbs and high waisted jean shorts, Keds and snap-at-the-crotch body suits.

The modeling class was supposed to teach poise and confidence; how to answer interview questions and walk a runway. I can imagine the people running the class were just as confused as we, the students, were. They had to try to find “modeling” curriculum for a bunch of 10-12 year old girls with self-esteem issues for an hour every Thursday night in the Jewish temple rec-room before the janitor came through with his vacuum. And we just sat fidgeting, with our chairs in a circle, sharing with the class on what modeling meant to us.

One night we did a video interview. I had to answer questions like, if you wearing a forest green silk vest, what accessories would you match with it.

The answer was, duh, a burgundy corduroy scrunchie and plastic hoop earrings.

Another night was spent determining what our seasonal color pallet was.

Obviously, I was an autumn.

Then there was figuring out what your best angles were during a photo shoot.

And the last night was runway.

Walk, walk, walk, pose, pivot, pose, pivot, walk walk walk.

Complete waste of time.

Especially since they told me that at 5’2 I would never be a runway model.

Oh the agony.

I could have been watching Saved by the Bell or shoving the cat in the drawer where I keep my stretchy leggings.

But as it turns out, I proved them wrong because since then I’ve walked two runways. That’s right people, I am basically Gisele Bundchen. So thank you modeling class of ’91, you were worth the 53 dollars and voucher for 25% off at Glamour Shots.

In college I walked in my friend’s fashion show.

I think I wore a cut up sweater that said Jesus loves me.

And while I was at Paul Mitchell the School, I was asked to do a hair show.

I had to walk a wobbly runway with a Lichtenstein inspired mini-dress with orange hair while hair professionals from all over the country took pictures with their flip camera phones.

I’m the one in the red dress with the pink blanket on my lap. We all have a variation of a bowl cut.

Growing that one out was rough.


And there I am in the middle.


(The shortest one)

Now I wonder if that voucher for Glamour Shots is still good…


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