a go at modeling (lyn)

Growing up, I wanted to be an actress and a model.  I took classes in both.

In junior high school, I won a seat on the Jordan Marsh Fashion Board.  I got to model clothes in downtown Boston, give other teens fashion advice, and even received some free outfits.  I also had smaller modeling jobs.  One time I acted as a mannequin in the windows of a local boutique.  And in college, I continued to model some. I was hoping to be discovered.  I wanted to be the next Colleen Corby, the beautiful dark-haired model who often appeared in Seventeen.

 So recently, when an arty friend of mine asked me if I wanted to model, I was ecstatic.  I pictured myself gracing the magazine covers of AARP or More.  Or maybe she was thinking television.  I could do an ad for one of those prescription drugs that target older people.   And with my new body, maybe even a story on “looking good in your late 50’s.”  But before I could get too far along in my fantasies, my friend said it would be as a model for a painting class taught by a friend of hers.   I was about to say no, but then thought it would be a new experience, and at worst, I could write about it.  Oh, and we clarified that my clothes could stay on.

So today I take the subway to Chinatown, and arrive at class around 10:30.  There are already a few people there, and someone asks if I’m the model.  I almost feel shy saying yes.   Soon the instructor arrives, along with a total of seven students of varying ages (men and women) and the class begins.

I’m told that as a warm up, I’m to strike a pose for a minute.  But after the first minute, the instructor asks me to hold the same pose for another minute.  And then another.  It turns into 20 minutes.  My back hurts and I’m bored.  It reminds me of being in temple, watching the clock, and knowing I have over two hours to go.

I can’t see the drawings but I can hear the instructor as he walks around the room and comments on each one.  “Oh, this one has a great likeness, “ he says of one.  After 20 minutes pass and I get to take a look, the one that has the most likeness to me looks like a Halloween witch.  My teeth look jagged, my wrinkles look deep, my chin looks doubled, and it looks like there is hair growing out of my nose (“shadows,” the artist says.).  Any confidence I had has evaporated.  Here are some of the other drawings from that sitting:

For the next set of poses I ask if I can read a book, and am told I can.  This 40-minute session (with a break in between where I replace my book with my iPhone and play Scrabble) goes more quickly.  But I hear one of the students say to the instructor, “I made her look really heavy and I know she’s not.”  When we break and I look at this image of me, I am mortified, and can’t help spilling out that I’ve just lost 30 pounds.  I can hear Alexander yelling in my ear, “You’re now telling a painting class of your weight loss.  This is really getting out-of-hand.”

So here are some of those drawings, including one where the artist conceptualizes me with four eyes.  I did not include the picture of me as heavy.  Better to have four eyes.

My final pose includes my iPod nano  (the instructor encourages modern technology in the classroom) and sunglasses (the room is very bright).  This 30-minute pose goes by fast.  I can even close my eyes and no one knows.  I think I like this set of drawings the best.

And finally, a scary image of me in the abstract, with the words, "I'll have you know that I lost 30 pounds!" in the upper right corner.

At one o’clock the class ends, and I’m surprised when the instructor pays me, as I wasn't expecting it.  I buy a lipstick on the way home and use up almost all my earnings.

I doubt I’ll be making it as anyone’s muse.