but i just had a dream that i was on an upcoming cycle of 'america's next top model' and had no idea that what was being piped into my brain was not pure reality. i had some doubts about how long i would last on the show:
* were they considering me a plus-size model? my leg hair alone eliminates me from a negative pant size. factor in the thighs of a retired male soccer player and the word 'waif' only comes to mind after the obligatory: 'certainly not a.'
* did they know how old i am? modeling careers rarely take off 11 days before a girl's 33rd birthday. would it be possible to pull off 22?
in the dream, i was finishing a run on a treadmill and tyra banks approached me and eyed me skeptically. i was wearing just a sports bra and shorts.
"you're flat," she said slowly.
"i'm wearing a sports bra, tyra," i responded. "everyone's flat in a sports bra."
she smirked. i could tell she thought i was sassy.
i proceded to explain to her why i thought i would make a great next top model, albeit an unconventional one. i hoped i wasn't coming across like victoria, who was accused of being prickly in the most recent season. when tyra walked away, i knew she liked me.
another model approached me. it was a woman i'd gone to high school with and she had the same permed bob she wore in junior high.
"at first i thought you would be eliminated first," she told me. "but now i think you will make the top 11."
i woke up right after i was explaining to the other models how i thought i could win because i don't wear much makeup and this is just what i look like and what i look like is a good representation of exactly who i am.
ah, pure hubris.