Back in the summer, I tried filling out applications to be a model.
An adult model.
What happened was I filled out a couple online apps, which means I made profiles on a couple websites that I can’t remember (I honestly don’t remember what they were or how to get onto them, but I know I applied to Chaos Men, Randy Blue, Perfect Guyz, and CollegeDudes) and submitted a few photos, none of which were very revealing (or in my opinion, very good). Then, since by the end of the summer, I hadn’t really heard anything from anyone (RB sorta called me one day when I was at work, and then we scheduled a time for them to call me back, which never happened, PG sent me an email saying I might be what they were looking for, but then they never got back to me, and I never even heard from CM), I just assumed that I wouldn’t *ever* hear back from any of them, so I forgot all about it and went on with my life.
Until about 20 minutes ago, when I checked my email and found that someone from “Blumedia Studios” had contacted me earlier this morning.
The email said:
[my name removed], I was reviewing some older applications and came across yours. I think you would be perfect for some videos we plan on shooting soon. Are
you still interested? Thanks!
As soon as I read this, it was like someone had screamed, “Stop the presses!”
My mind blanked and my heart stopped. I’m still having trouble breathing correctly.
I originally tried applying for this stuff because I wanted to make a shit ton of money quickly and thought it might be fun. And I kinda wanted a new computer.
I also did it because I thought it might help me get over some serious personal issues I’ve had for a long time. Namely, my self-loathing and body dysmorphia.
I thought maybe if I applied, and people thought I was good enough to be in a porn, then maybe lots of people would think that same way, too. And if they thought that, then maybe I’d be able to like me, too.
Basically, I thought if I did this, then my sort of self-imposed psychological illness that was 10+ years in the making would magically disappear like something out of a 1950’s psychodrama.
Kinda silly, huh?
Well, anyway, like I said, since I never heard back, I figured I never would hear back, so I forgot about it all.
And now someone says they think I’d be perfect.
I can’t even begin to process this.
I feel like I’m gonna awkwardly throw up at any second. I actually feel sick right now. Sick with fear.
Because I’m reverting to my normal (neurotic) thinking pattern…
Like I said in a post a week ago, I would describe myself as being “skinnyfat” (that word always makes me chuckle a little, ‘cause it sounds so funny, even though I suppose it’s not), so I’m actually mortally terrified that they’ll see what I really look like and be all, “Oh. Ew,” like I’ve feared everyone would say to me if I ever did so much as take off my shirt ever since I was a 5th grader.
Now, as a quick note, I know people disagree with this line of thinking, and I respect people’s opinions on the matter, but the fact is that that is how I think when it comes to my body and self-image, and nobody can really change that. Only I can, and I honestly don’t know how, when, or even if something like that will ever happen with me. Only time will tell. But I digress.
Anyways, so I’m all sorts of excited and terrified by this email and all the potential plot twists it will add to my life. So naturally, I had to say something about it to someone who will listen somewhere and have some sort of reaction to it. I don’t know what I should do about it all. I actually really want to do it, as I find the idea of work in that field absolutely fascinating, yet my inner mother and my inner Dr. Temperance Brennan are saying it’s a bad idea on so many levels. And my somewhat inner sense of self-shaming says I’ll never be able to make it…
But I suppose there’s only one way to find out.
I’ll email them back tomorrow with an answer and find out more. I suppose I’ll report back, even if I end up being the only one who ever reads these words.
Comments and responses would be all kinds of welcome (as long as you aren’t too mean).