Читать книгу Almost 5'4" - Isobella Jade - Страница 11

Back home for the summer, without a father figure, scholarship, or any semblance of a plan, I felt cramped and struggled to breathe. Being home was a reminder of how much I had tried to get out in the first place. The tension was building again with each helping of my mother’s deep-fried bullshit.

The more I thought about my situation the more that conversation with Audrey came to mind. The idea that I could make it as a model wouldn’t go away. I remembered her words as my mother handed me a second helping of chilli. I pushed the bowl away as if it were poison. It hit me right there and then, that a plain, hopeless girl from Syracuse with no connections or knowledge of the modeling world should give it a try.

I did the only thing I could think of. I opened Google and attacked it – typing in any modeling word that came to mind. The first results of my search showed two things: a lot of skin and tall women.

That moment could have ruined everything, and it almost did. My fingers hesitated over the keyboard as I scrolled through shots of long-legged gorgeous Giraffes (my nickname for the impossibly tall, skinny beauties that would from now on be my competition). My heart rate went up when the blond smiled at me. She was naked except for the tiniest G-string I had ever seen. She stared at me and whispered, ‘You don’t have a chance.’ I continued through the whole page, my eyebrows furrowed with doubt. I would never be as beautiful as them. There was nothing at all in that dusty basement to give me hope. I almost allowed my life to slink back to greasy fried chicken, potato skins and suburban shopping malls. Almost, but not quite.