Runnin round the
big city, tryna look pretty.
So I threw in the towel where I live – the Isle of Man – and
decided to move to London. Drastic considering I didn't have a job lined up or
a place to live but hey that’s me. I was stuck in a hole, hating my life and
job and thought I can do better than this. I had enough money saved and decided
to jump. People said I was crazy and/or stupid. Now I think everyone should be
entitled to their own opinion, but fuck them all.
It’s been tough from the word go, I got delayed by 12 hours
in the airport – absolute joke. The hostel I stayed in was great – The Talbot
Pub in Acton Town, would highly recommend– and landlord was a great guy. Things
turned ugly when a loud family (I won’t divulge the nationality in case I
isolate readers) moved into the room next to mine, on the other side of me was
the kitchen. Dinner time for said family was 11.40pm – WTF? They had a daughter
called Molly, who couldn't move without her mother summoning/howling for her. I
felt sorry for Molly but then I realised Molly was a bitch. Every door she
walked through a door she slammed it and she was a messy mother fucker in the kitchen.
Their next stop was Amsterdam – I don’t think Amsterdam is ready for them.
Jobless and only a
few days left in my hostel with no one responding to me on Spareroom it was
looking grim. I thought what an idiot I’ll look when I rock up back home and
say I couldn't hack it. I shook the thought and decided to send my pictures to
a few modelling agencies. They all said I was way too tall – damn! What do I do now?
Major panic ensued but one looked promising. Long story short I rocked up and
have been sent to a few castings and I absolutely love it. My feet are sore,
I'm tired and destroyed but I'm living the life I want to live. I've waited
6 years to do this, and it’s finally happening!
The castings can be anywhere, and I mean anywhere, how
people found the castings prior to Google Maps, god only knows. They must have
been master navigators! It’s hot here and really humid, I only have a small
amount of clothing and that which I do have can double up for Arctic
expeditions. The sun doesn't shine very often on the Isle of Man (north of
north), it’s a god forsaken place, we haven’t seen the light in years. So I've
packed all my worst case scenario clothes and I'm paying the price now. I left
the hostel in a shirt the other day – unheard of and downright dangerous in the
Isle of Man.
I expected everyone to be really nasty and bitchy, but so
far (fingers crossed) I haven’t come across anything like that, so we’ll see. One
of the castings was mixed and watching the girls walk is amazing. Some have
just got it down to an art form, others less so. With their groins pushed
forwards whilst they sway their arms behind them, it looks like a bizarre Hominidae
mating ritual. And then I realise I'm next – fuuuuck. Time to look sexy and
serious.
My face is sweating (northern clothing) and all I can hear is my heart and it’s not
sounding great. I suddenly remembered somewhere from a book that when a
situation is getting the better of you, you disassociate from your feelings in
order to regain control. I said to myself ‘this person is nervous, this person
is scared, this person can’t walk in a straight line at the best of times how
is this person going to do it now with everyone watching!?’ To be fair it
seemed to work, I got through it okay and walked round the room with everyone
eyeing me up. When things are looking grim give it a try and see what you think.
Hopefully I’ll get booked, but if not every no takes me
closer to a yes.
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