A Superficial Diary

    It wasn’t worth it. The past 7 years to end up like this, unhealthy and alone.

   My first day in the industry was exceptional; I felt like a princess. Showered with gifts and compliments, the opportunity seemed to be once in a lifetime. My parents disapproved, warning me of the dangers I could encounter. But I was ignorant to their opinions; I wanted to feel beautiful for once.

    A typical day at the studio was blissful. Come to the set, get made up for hours with hair and makeup, practice for the theme of the shoot, perform and go home with a smile on my face. The first few years of my career in the industry were extraordinary. My status was rising as I acquired more and more jobs with the top magazines: Marie Claire, Women’s Health, Elle, and even Vogue. I was at the top of my game. Everybody wanted me. It was unbelievably stimulating.

    Then one morning I arrived to shoot for a swimsuit magazine, something I had coveted since I was little. Sitting at the makeup station in my white robe, I greeted everyone with a jubilant smile prepared for the day to begin. I was notified of some extra procedures we would need to do before shooting; I agreed enthusiastically as always, excited for a new experience. They brought me over to the scale, told me to take off my robe and jump on. I’d never weighed myself in front of anyone other than my Mother in my life, but I was ready. The scale read 106. I looked up and smiled saying innocently, “What’s next?”  My manager looked at the photographer, then back at me taking a deep breath in, “To do a swimsuit shoot, you must be less than 100 pounds. Or a BMI fewer than 18, you don’t qualify for either. It’s a regulation. We apologize, but can you fix this issue in 2 weeks? That’s the only time we can book this notorious photographer.” I was stunned. I mean, I knew I had always been skinny, so I had never encountered a problem before. I’d heard rumours about the speculation of the modelling industry, but never believed it to be true. I thought they liked me.

     For months after that incident the scale became my best friend. Every day my routine became harder. Wakeup: have one bottle Kombucha tea, a fermented Chinese tea. Supposedly it has all of these properties for the immune system, metabolism support, and digestion. Followed by one apple, that would suffice. Hit the gym for 2 hours, then the studio. Possibly stopping for a snack of cottage cheese, and drinking more than a litre of water in a day. This worked tremendously for two years. I was asked to participate in Madrid’s Fashion Week: a dream come true.

       I stepped on stage to do a run through of my walk in Madrid; I felt faint. This was normal, apparently. All the models said so. I avoided the mirror on show days so I wouldn’t psyche myself out about how much weight I needed to lose on that day. I had jumped from 98 to 107. With a height of 5”7, an increase of 9 pounds was an embarrassing disaster. As I was walking back to have a team chat before the show began, amidst the hype, I had fainted.

       Waking up in the hospital, I clearly remember my Mother crying. She never wanted this for me. She felt this was her fault, although she warned me, she didn’t monitor like she felt she should have for her baby girl. This broke my heart. My doctor notified my Mother and me of my condition… after running tests and calculating my food intake over the past year; he declared me to have severe Anorexia Nervosa Disorder. It was surreal. He paused and stared at us welling up into tears, and says “Lucy, don’t be ashamed. The reason you have had rapid weight gain over the past month is because… you’re pregnant.”

A trip to Heaven

    The sun has been kind to us. Kissing our cheeks from dawn till dusk. The sky is never grey, blessed with blue. Scenes like a painting, views like a dream. If there were a catastrophic change in the weather, the rain would be gold.

      Set on our blue checkered tablecloth on the patio table (in an adorable manner), is breakfast.  Two plates. One buttered bagel and a glass of a Mimosa; a bowl of Greek yogurt to share. Amazing beginning to a day. The plan for the day was to go for a hike to Zagoria, or maybe Central Peloponnese, so many breathtaking choices. But we were much too comfortable, now sunbathing in netted woven hammocks. Pure bliss.

      “This is naturally peaceful, for once. We work incredibly hard back home and acquire nothing. It is heartbreaking. I never want to return to our hopeless reality,” Lily puts down her drink and picks up a local magazine.                                                                                                                                                                 “I agree,” pouring myself another fresh Mimosa, “going back to my desk job for 8.95$ an hour…is like, definitely not ideal,” I sink back into my hammock letting out a huge breath.                                                                          One of the hotel workers knocked on the side of our door, “hello ladies, my apologies for interrupting, but your 4 o’clock herbal massage has been changed to 1 pm is that alright?” We both smile cheerfully, “Yes!” screeching in unison.

    My life back at home was simple, not good nor bad. But I cannot complain for I am in a trance at this very moment.

      Golden girls we became over the day, beautifully bronzed. Showered with gifts from the local men who fancied us; treating us like royalty. Nothing could upset our fantasy now; we were on top of the world! Well, close enough.

     

      “Hey, Ally… your Mother is on the phone…” Those were the words I did not want to hear right now.                                                                        “Hello? Mom!? What is going on…I told you never to call this number,” I frantically pace back and forth.                                                                         “Alaska Brielle! You listen to me right now young lady!”                            “MOM! I am not a young lady… I’m fifteen! Ugh,” I sighed heavily into a growl. I honestly despise the sound of that woman's voice.                                                  “Listen here miss, we have hired people to search for you ALL over Omaha. This little prank you pulled, is unacceptable! You two better get your butts home this instant…or you will never leave your rooms let alone this country again.” My heart began to pound… All we wanted was a getaway. You know, like in the movies. Steal your parent’s credit cards, book flights to Greece, shop like queens and stay in five star hotels. It totally happens all the time.

     I wish I could be writing this joyful postcard to my parents. But all I ended up with was a severe detention for skipping school and grounding for two months… but I can say one thing, I will never forget my 6 hours in Greece!  

Coincedence

      "Do you realize you just spilled your steaming hot coffee ALL over my NEW versace blouse. Come on, this is silk. Who do you think you are?!" Straightening herself she tries to clean the spill with a paper napkin. 
    "I'm so sorry I wasn't paying attention, I'm just really stressed!" He looks down in embarrassment. The striking woman makes an effort to scowl at him. 
     "Um. Do you think I care?! My name is Elizabeth Marilyn. It's NOT a pleasure to meet you, so please be gone now before you ruin anything else..." 
     "Well wait, what is your last name?" Says the man. 
     Taking a deep breath in she stays composed. "Excuse me, sir. If you are attempting to fancy me, maybe start by buying me a new versace..." 
     He laughs. "Well even though you are undeniably beautiful, I just wanted to repay you. " 
     She ponders the thought of trusting someone again....flushed and flustered she stares blankly. "Scott." 
    "I'm sorry, what? Scott who?" 
    "Scott. That is my last name."


    

to be continued..

Lotto

      “Wait!” Stumbling to grab her book bag, Chelsea speeds into a run. The 107 Cavendish splashes by, literally. Looking down at her soaking bag and overalls, she sighs heavily. 

        This was clearly not Chelsea’s morning. Her boyfriend left her, she broke the plate she was eating breakfast on, lost her keys and was unexpectedly wishing she could just get to work.  Work. Her least favourite place. Filled with unhappy old men and irritating hopeful young women. How she had acquired this job was a mystery, but she stays satisfied because it pays the rent. With Marcus gone, she was lost. AND she was without plates. 

         After a long journey down town, Chelsea arrived. Uncomfortably sitting at her desk in her damp blue blazer really boosted her confidence. She was now feeling like a mutt. Ruffling her papers around she notices a yellow piece of paper, it's her daily ticket! The one thing she needed on this dreadful day was a smile, and she had succeeded. Her only hope was this ticket… 

       She was a 649 addict. 2pm everyday a golden ticket lay in her hand, enthralling.
Never won before, clearly. But she was ever hopeful. A dedicated buyer she believed it was her turn, her one chance to fix her life. What she would do with the money, is unknown at this moment... but she feels it would go to good use, not only to her but to others. A generic plan that she has been praying to get a chance at. 

                                                                              ~

    “And the numbers are!”  Chelsea grips onto her seat, looking down at her last hope.  A yellow piece of paper with 6 numbers.  “1…4…7…5…5…” She was nervous, so close…would today be her day? “2.”

Triumph

The tips of her tiny fingers brush along the pine trees.   

                                                                                                                                                                       Skipping blissfully towards the river bank; enjoying tapping her toes in the puddles as she walks by. 

As the rain pours heavier she halts.          

At the edge of the river, she digs her tiny hand into the purple pocket of her raincoat.   

                                                                                                                                                                          Pulling out a silver locket: filled with tiny notes. 

These were her small dreams to the world; peace on Earth, end to war, and so on. 

Believing to be most powerful, she wishes to send the world her dreams.

Stars didn't suffice in her mind. 

She knew she could achieve greatness, she knew she had a gift. 

She kneels in her floral patterned tights, soaking a hole through.

With a tiny smile she lightly tosses the silver locket into the gloomy grey river.     

The water illuminated in a stretch of gold and pink.   

                                                                                            

Goddess of the sun

Viewfinder #3

Her tense legs climb step by step to the top of the two diving boards. Calming her nerves, she faintly spots her purple backpack in the stands on the right, with her mother smiling. Standing at the edge she feels a gasp of air push her tiny figure. Pressured, she lifts her arms, aligns her feet, and jumps. 

Viewfinder #2

In a last attempt to push the boulder with all of their strength, still no progress is accumulated. Their arms are scratched sore, and fear begins to set in. The car that brought the four passengers to an eerie deserted camp ground, is now crushed steel, no longer able to save them.

Viewfinder #1

The rope ladders sway back and forth, I hang my head over the edge. Cold hands are intolerably trembling as the heavy wicked winds amass, the ladders swinging close enough to nearly touch each other. Underneath rests a layer of fog covering a muddy ground. I kneel down on the ladder, praying I do not fall. 

Where My World Began

     The crisp air was chilling our ears, like the frost was gradually nibbling away at us. It was an earlier autumn than usual. The 5^th of October, my eighth birthday. I never asked for much, but I did have one request for a gift this year. And to my surprise, after unravelling the crinkly wrapping paper and playing with the twinkling bows and ribbons, I stared blankly at the magic in front of me. My eyes lit up as if someone had turned up the brightness. I picked it up; still no words could form from my mouth, but just a simple smile sent to my parents displaying my happiness. I strummed the stiff strings for the first time, my initial thought was, "Is this supposed to happen?”. My parents laughed at my confusion. "No, I’m serious… how do I use this thing!”  They handed me a book of notes, and told me to figure out myself. If I wanted to learn, I would have to do it alone.                                   

      I was jubilant. However, this charm was twice my size… but I decided I would have to deal with it. I immediately began exploring sounds and tunes, I spent many hours devoted. Releasing it brought me to an abode of harmony and realness. Not only writing lyrics to go alongside the music, but the emotions felt when the fogging melody filled my mind were like an aura of my own glowing galaxy reaching a point of complete peace. No other sounds or people around interfered. Then as my life began to change, so did my own creation. I slowly drifted away from the world; the tight rope that I held onto began to break. That piece of me was almost gone, like an empty box waiting to be refilled and sealed for good. Years had gone by and the doors to my world had not been reopened. The once breathtaking experience that was a part of my life, world, and even heart, had now turned into aimless air.

        Then the day arose where I brought myself in front of the doors of my world, kneeling to recover the piece of my heart that was absent for so long.  Slowly unzipping the cloth case, to my embarrassment my hands were almost shaking. The most enchanting moment, was to blow off the dust from my six string acoustic guitar…almost bringing it to life. To my life; again. The spruce soundboard and nylon strings seemed flawless, as if untouched, the sun from my window shined off the wood. My eyes twinkled. This was where my world began. Music is a significant part of my life, and the lyrics bind my story.