A Small Town Girl and a Big City Dream

My dream to become a model at sixteen is a far cry from where I am today. And I’m so glad.

The year was 1980 and I was sixteen-years-old. I’d pleaded with my parents to allow me to take a bus on the weekends to New Orleans to become a model.

I was enamored by size zero models and fashion magazines. During my times off from school, I’d head up to my bedroom upstairs and go through my collection of the latest fashion magazines from Seventeen, Vogue, and others.

I’d created a scrapbook of my favorite magazine photos. It was sort of a reminder to hold on to my then-dream of becoming a model. I’d say, “I’ll have my own photo spread in there someday.”

I idolized Cheryl Tiegs, Brooke Shields, Cindy Crawford, Kim Alexis, and others I can’t remember the names of.

I’d spend hours in the bathroom trying to recreate their dramatic makeup effects on my own face. I even played around with trying to paint Cindy Crawford’s iconic mole on the left side of my face. I actually had a mole in nearly the same place, but it was lighter and I’d try to darken it up with an eye pencil. Of course, it never looked like hers.

I was also obsessed with my weight. Looking back, I was pretty thin at that time. I was around 105 pounds and wore a size 5 dress. But, I saw myself as fat. I wanted to become that size 0 or 3 model.

I‘d go long periods of time without eating, but never days like some girls did. Cucumbers and apples were my foods of choice. And I’d spend two hours each day exercising to the point of making myself dizzy.

Several times a week, I’d measure my hips and waist. Most of the models I idolized had model-perfect measurements of 34–24–34. Mine stood at around 35–25–36. I hated my hips. No matter how many leg lift exercises I did, my hips stayed the same.

Weekends modeling in New Orleans became a reality.

I convinced my parents to let me head to the Big Easy each weekend. There was a bus that stopped along the three-hour trek to the big city. It was chartered with models from all over the state. We were all wide-eyed teenagers. Some more sophisticated than others. I was pretty naive.

I come from a family of strong-headed individuals that often don’t take no for an answer. We believe in the impossible. And I’m thankful I have that fierce determination in me. It’s helped me to always push beyond what I perceive my limits to be.

I knew that I was two inches shorter than the usual requirement to have a serious modeling career. But, I had it in my mind that I could anyway. I was able to model for the big department stores in New Orleans, but I never wanted to be a fashion show model. I wanted to be a magazine model.

In New Orleans, I learned about the modeling industry and all the different types of modeling possibilities. I was told I had nice hands and could possibly have a long-term career as a hand model.

I also had some training in voice-over because again I was told I had a pretty good voice that had possibilities.

Once in New Orleans, I was distracted by other things.

I was pretty awe-struck. The big city was so much different than my little home town.

The other girls and I often had an hour or two of free time. We wanted to explore the city.

We were cautioned about crime in the city. We were told the best way to stay safe as we walked the streets was to lock elbows and walk together in large groups.

So lock elbows we did. It wasn’t unusual for me to not even know the name of the girl I was locking elbows with.

We often giggled as we plodded along. I don’t know why, but some of us would belt out the lyrics of the Mary Tyler Moore theme song “We’re going to make it after all”.

When I think of that, it’s kind of funny that I would later become a writer.

Some of the other girls were so sophisticated. As with everything, there were always some models who were favored more than others, usually because of their slender, tall physiques.

One thing I realized once I was actually modeling was that I didn’t want it as bad as some of the other girls. We often ate in this health food store that was located in the same building as one of the department stores we modeled for.

We always got the same thing — an egg salad sandwich with alfalfa sprouts on whole grain bread and a strawberry smoothie. It was the first time I’d ever heard of a smoothie. They didn’t serve those anywhere in the small town I lived in.

Then I discovered how desperate some girls were to be thin.

Some of the girls would head to the bathroom after devouring lunch and make themselves vomit.

Again, I was pretty naive and didn’t figure out why initially. I didn’t know what anorexia or bulimia was at the time.

I actually thought they were just sick. It wasn’t until one of the girls offered me laxatives and said I should try it if I really wanted that 34–24–34 figure that I put two and two together.

I didn’t want it that bad.

I wasn’t going to stick my finger down my throat and gag myself nor was I going to take laxatives. I never did like pain or discomfort.

It was just three years later when the world found out that Karen Carpenter died due to her anorexia struggle. I’ll never forget the profound sadness I felt when I heard the news.

A few years later, I said goodbye to that naive, but worldly young girl. The girl who thought the most important thing in the world was that she had a pretty face and a good figure.

I didn’t value my own mind at the time or place much value about what was in my heart. I allowed society and culture to dictate my value and worth through my physical appearance.

I’ve changed and so has the world. At least I hope so.

Now, 39-years later, I’m a far cry from that 105-pound frame. I no longer have that pretty little face. The years haven’t exactly been kind to my body either. I’m overweight and in poor health.

And though I’d really love to lose a great deal of weight and feel more confident about how I look, I value the person I am today. I’ve learned to look outside of myself. I’ve become a person that sees other people and their struggles.

I know what’s important in life. I know that I was put on this earth to be much more than a pretty face or to have a thin body. I don’t have to live up to society’s expectations. I‘m meant to lift up and encourage others, to see outside of my own struggles in life.

Still, I treasure that time of freedom and self-discovery in New Orleans. It was a rare and wonderful experience and the takeaway led me on a different journey than I started out on.

And when I think of the journey I might have ended up on had I been taller, had I been thinner, had I been the desperate girl who might have been anorexic just live up to the image that society deemed perfect at the time, I’m immensely thankful that I took a different road in life.

I’m glad there’s a movement in today’s society where girls and women are feeling more empowered. Where women are taught that they can be bold and courageous, just like men.

Where women are taught that their true value doesn’t lie on the surface of their skin, but rather in their abilities and their thoughts and what they can do to change the world.

Women are breaking away from those societal expectations and feeling freer to be what they want to be, even if it’s a role that’s outside the norm for women.

We’ve come a long way, baby. And you know what? We might just make it after all.