I Think I Knew That Model

Chapter Two: Natalia

“Look to the side Natalia! Chin up! Chin up! Up! Up! Tilt your head to the side a bit! Perfect! Perfect! Gorgeous! Now, hands up! Wrist flex! Palms up! Fingers spread! Raise one arm higher than the other! The other one lower! Give me a sort of, “I don’t even know how I got here, but I love this!” sort of face. Shoulders apart a bit more! Shape, shape! Not that far apart! Lower them! Perfect! Beautiful! Gorgeous! You’re amazing! Now, hands at your waist, and look at me Natalia! Not directly, like you’re just glimpsing! Seductive! Perfect! Make your arms parallel! Yes! Awesome! Okay, last one! Over to the river! Cross legged!”

“How am I supposed to cross my legs in this dress?”

“Okay, bend your knees, but don’t sit! Now, look mystified! No, not like you’re confused! You’re curious! Amazed! Fascinated! You want more! Lightly dab a finger in the water. Smile slightly! Small smile, small smile! Peace, serenity! Okay, now, legs on the floor, keep ‘em bended! Other arm for support-yes! Like that! You’re amazing! Head up! Look up! Head to the side! You’re graceful! You’re like a princess!” Usually when they start saying shit like this, my job gets harder, because I’m sitting there trying not to laugh. “Mouth closed when you smile Natalia! Yes! Yes! Perfect! Hold that! Aaaand we’re done! Beautiful Natalia! Gorgeous! You fucking sold it!”

“Yeah, yeah, that’s great. Now can somebody help me out of this dress?”

“Rachelle, help her out will you?”

“Come on Nat. Let’s go.”

“Thank you Rachelle.”

So then I head back to the dressing room, Rachelle helps me out of that glittery death trap, I slip on something like a jogging suit or sweats (remember, I got there at like, 8 in the morning) grab an ice cappuccino from the nearest Tim Horton’s (which I might add is at least 10 times better than Starbucks, in terms of line ups) and drive back home. Usually I’m way too stressed out and tired to take off my makeup, so I get to my apartment, and collapse on my couch and watch some mind numbing TV. I got to say, it’s hella fucking weird watching What Would You Do? knowing that John Quinones usually films the intro for every episode about half a mile away from me. I wish I’d get caught in one of their segments. That’d be interesting. Because you know I’m sitting here like, “Bitches and bastards! I’d so help that guy out!” But in reality, if I were actually there, I probably wouldn’t really know how to react, even if my heart was in the right place. But I digress. Because the more important situation at hand was the phone call I got today. From my mom. Whom I haven’t seen in at least 6 years. Who decided she was just going to drop by my house without even telling me. I’m serious. As soon as I hung up the phone on her, I heard a knock outside my door. And lo and behold, it was her.

“Nat! Sweetie! Hiiii!” She automatically leaned in for a hug that almost crushed ever fibre of my being. Not like I got a chance to give a hug back. Immediately she walked in and made herself at home. She ransacked my fridge, took the B.L.T. I was planning on eating, and plopped down on my couch, shoes and all.

“Oh sweetie, could you take my scarf please? And my coat?” She dropped them in my arms and flipped the channel to FOX new, munching away on sandwich.

This is why I haven’t invited her in 6 years. She’s overbearing, a slob, greedy, and watches really shitty T.V. I put her stuff away and settled down in my big arm chair. It’s so comfy. It even spins. Pulling out the built-in foot rest, I said,

“Hi mom. It’s great to see you. It’s been a while.” 

“…huh? Oh yeah, it’s been too long. Waaay too long.” She grinned mischievously at me. Sometimes I swear she still thinks she’s 15.