I’m so nervous. I hope that people will embrace my body and that I’m not just another stick, walking along the catwalk but I’m not feeling so confident with the looks, well more like death stares, that the other models are giving me.
“Oh wow, look what Reagan has dragged in this time….I mean where would she even find someone like that…like what sixe are you by the way?” asked some snotty model, which I could only assume was the ‘popular queen bee’.
“Why? Do you have an issue with my body?”
“Yes I do have a problem with your body. Everyone else here fights long and hard to keep they’re body in perfect condition and we aren’t going to let some newbie ruin that for us. Azure is an extremely important fashion company if you hadn’t realised and to have someone like you walk out onto the catwalk as part of the show would be an absolute disgrace.”
“Oh but letting thousands of girls die because they want to have a body like yours isn’t?”
“No we aren’t forcing those girls to become like that; it is purely their own personal choice.”
“No, it’s because your bodies are plastered everyone that they want to look like that. They want to have the body of a model because they are always so popular and pretty. But really you are all on the brink of collapsing because of the amount of pressure you put on your bodies. Are any of you here naturally that skinny?”
The room was filled with silence and I knew that for the time being I had won the argument.
“That’s exactly what I thought.”