unplug with them for a few days while we all played in the snow.
But when we got down the mountain, my phone came to life, and I had a slew of missed calls and texts telling me to call immediately. I thought someone had died, but no. It was actually Rita, the chick in charge of me, running around like crazy.
Normally I don’t have a problem with a booking because when I get called for a shoot, they’re scheduled months in advance. Now my agency is telling me that I have to get my butt on a plane right now, so that I can be in Los Angeles tomorrow.
“Yes. The marketing director was very specific.” I hear Rita let out a sigh. “If I could have gotten ahold of you when I found out, this wouldn’t all be so last minute.”
I can hear the annoyance in her voice, but I just let it go. We both want me to work. I want to do my thing and make some money, and so does she. This is business, so I pull out my positive attitude and get things moving.
“I can be ready in fifteen. Just tell me which gate my plane is leaving from.”
As Rita gives me the details, I run around my apartment, throwing shit in a bag. I know they’ll have everything I need at the photo shoot, so I just bring essentials. I have a girlfriend who lives in LA, so I toss in a couple of fun outfits in case we feel like going out after I’m finished with the shoot.
After a tornado of packing and getting to the airport, I text my friend Sasha to tell her I’m coming into town for a few days. My agency booked me a hotel room near the airport and then emailed me the info on the photo shoot.
Once I’m to my gate, I sit down and look over the details of the contract while I wait for my flight to be called. It’s a lingerie campaign for a company called Curved Intimates. I’ve heard a little about them, but I’m not too familiar with their company. They’re owned by a parent company called Breakstone Corporation, but I’ve never heard of them. I Google Curved Intimates and thumb through their website. It’s all pretty basic, some department store looks, generic styles. Nothing really stands out to me, and I’m a tad disappointed. Maybe this shoot will be different. I try to pump myself up about it because if I have to do one more spread for mom jeans, I’m gonna die.
My lookbook is small because most of the photos I’d had professionally done for campaigns weren’t ones I loved. Thankfully, I have a friend who lives close to me who does photography, and I’d lucked out by getting a few sessions with her. She does a lot of boudoir work for couples, and the ones she took of me are my favorite ones to date.
It’s hard being a plus-size model. I love sexy pictures, and modeling is fun to me. But the thinner girls tend to get the good clothes. Everything is always made for smaller sizes, which is okay, but big girls want to be stylish, too. I see comments sometimes where people say I’ve got the body of a “real woman.” I think every size is beautiful. Every woman is a real woman: tall, short, thin, and big. Beauty comes in different shapes. I’d just prefer it if the sexy stuff came in my size more often.
Flicking through my social media, I check in and say hello to everyone. As I’m typing away, my name is called over the intercom, and I get nervous. When someone calls my name like that, it feels like I’m being called to the principal’s office.
I grab my bag and walk up to the gate check to speak to the man behind the counter.
“Ms. Carr, we just wanted to inform you that you’ve been upgraded to first class. If I could see your boarding pass, I’ll exchange it for you.”
I must have a look of shock on my face. After a pause, I pull out the paper and hand it to him, getting the new first class one in return.
Going back over to the seat I was in moments ago, I try to think about why I’d been bumped up. Maybe the cabin is full or something. Hell, maybe they saw I was a big girl and thought I needed the room. Shrugging my
But when we got down the mountain, my phone came to life, and I had a slew of missed calls and texts telling me to call immediately. I thought someone had died, but no. It was actually Rita, the chick in charge of me, running around like crazy.
Normally I don’t have a problem with a booking because when I get called for a shoot, they’re scheduled months in advance. Now my agency is telling me that I have to get my butt on a plane right now, so that I can be in Los Angeles tomorrow.
“Yes. The marketing director was very specific.” I hear Rita let out a sigh. “If I could have gotten ahold of you when I found out, this wouldn’t all be so last minute.”
I can hear the annoyance in her voice, but I just let it go. We both want me to work. I want to do my thing and make some money, and so does she. This is business, so I pull out my positive attitude and get things moving.
“I can be ready in fifteen. Just tell me which gate my plane is leaving from.”
As Rita gives me the details, I run around my apartment, throwing shit in a bag. I know they’ll have everything I need at the photo shoot, so I just bring essentials. I have a girlfriend who lives in LA, so I toss in a couple of fun outfits in case we feel like going out after I’m finished with the shoot.
After a tornado of packing and getting to the airport, I text my friend Sasha to tell her I’m coming into town for a few days. My agency booked me a hotel room near the airport and then emailed me the info on the photo shoot.
Once I’m to my gate, I sit down and look over the details of the contract while I wait for my flight to be called. It’s a lingerie campaign for a company called Curved Intimates. I’ve heard a little about them, but I’m not too familiar with their company. They’re owned by a parent company called Breakstone Corporation, but I’ve never heard of them. I Google Curved Intimates and thumb through their website. It’s all pretty basic, some department store looks, generic styles. Nothing really stands out to me, and I’m a tad disappointed. Maybe this shoot will be different. I try to pump myself up about it because if I have to do one more spread for mom jeans, I’m gonna die.
My lookbook is small because most of the photos I’d had professionally done for campaigns weren’t ones I loved. Thankfully, I have a friend who lives close to me who does photography, and I’d lucked out by getting a few sessions with her. She does a lot of boudoir work for couples, and the ones she took of me are my favorite ones to date.
It’s hard being a plus-size model. I love sexy pictures, and modeling is fun to me. But the thinner girls tend to get the good clothes. Everything is always made for smaller sizes, which is okay, but big girls want to be stylish, too. I see comments sometimes where people say I’ve got the body of a “real woman.” I think every size is beautiful. Every woman is a real woman: tall, short, thin, and big. Beauty comes in different shapes. I’d just prefer it if the sexy stuff came in my size more often.
Flicking through my social media, I check in and say hello to everyone. As I’m typing away, my name is called over the intercom, and I get nervous. When someone calls my name like that, it feels like I’m being called to the principal’s office.
I grab my bag and walk up to the gate check to speak to the man behind the counter.
“Ms. Carr, we just wanted to inform you that you’ve been upgraded to first class. If I could see your boarding pass, I’ll exchange it for you.”
I must have a look of shock on my face. After a pause, I pull out the paper and hand it to him, getting the new first class one in return.
Going back over to the seat I was in moments ago, I try to think about why I’d been bumped up. Maybe the cabin is full or something. Hell, maybe they saw I was a big girl and thought I needed the room. Shrugging my
Similar Books
