Part-time model

A man with long, tied back, silky hair and strong black-rimmed glasses touched my arm and stopped me right when the cold air from the mall blasted my face. "Hey miss, have you ever considered being a part-time model?"

"Not interested."

I walked away briskly. He kept following me, saying that he's a photographer for catalogues and that he liked my sharp chin, my small waist, my accentuated cheeks, my straight posture, my . . .

"Not interested."

"Why not?"

I didn't know what to say. Because the idea of being made up and fussed over and then treated like a clothes hanger, with people stripping off your clothes for you to minimize time wasted during changing, did not sound like a great weekend plan?

Capitalizing on that moment of hesitation, he motioned me forward, always staying a step ahead on me,   turning around constantly  -- "Just a few shots first. We need your info. Our office is just around the corner. Come, come. You better work on walking in heels though."

I tried to explain that not interested was really not interested. I shook my head emphatically, dangling my weighty Tibetan coral earrings for dramatic effect. But somehow, my legs kept moving forward, narrowly tripping on the uneven sidewalk. Perhaps it's because I've always been terrible at saying no, very firmly, and I didn't want to raise my voice on the streets to make sure that he heard me.

And because  - and really not that deep down - it's just a little bit complimentary to be asked to be photographed when I've always been the nice sister of the beautiful girls.

Ten minutes later, sitting in front of the chief photographer for an interview about my previous modeling experiences, measurements, weekend schedules, blah blah blah, I finally felt it. How silly I was for being easily flattered by an offer to be objectified. How I would find it absolutely mindless to be spending my saturdays playing dress up in other people's clothes. And how the thrill of strangers complimenting you excessively for your looks really wore off quick.

So I thanked them and walked out.

----

Of course, this clip from the Flight of the Concords reminded me that being invited to be a part-time model probably wasn't the best compliment either.