I let the hairdressers comb my hair for the last batch of photos for the photo shoot, though I would like to
scream at both of them to be more delicate if they don't want me to introduce myself bald at my second day of work.
From the first camera flash I have done nothing but stare intently at the camera like
if Edward was instead of the lens, I kept my lips slightly parted as when I
I fell asleep with my nose blocked and tried to contract my lower back muscles as if I were
trying to fart.
A young boy whose name I haven't learned yet beckons me again to reach the corner
reserved for the set, where the photographer discusses with another man of his age.
It's only the first day, but everyone seems to be so cold and aloof that several times I wonder what am I doing in this place, surrounded by the most famous and professional fashion staff in the United States.
I avoid snorting and scolding myself again, so I get up from my chair and walk away from my seat
without even bothering to look in the mirror for the umpteenth time.
The more I force to see myself beautiful in the mirror, the more I notice that my face is always the same, as if there were so many irregularities that they could not be covered with a simple thread of
foundation.
«Give me an overbearing and proud expression at the same time.» - I jump when I realize that the
photographer turns to me, so I try to concentrate and please him, lifting his chin up as James usually does every time he walks through the corridors of Gordon's mansion.
I even lower my eyebrows as he does, while the annoying flashes of the camera begin to light up the room.
I tilt my head down and bring my eyes to the high heels I am forced to wear.
This heels bother me in every single step I take, but I love the dress like I never have
loved any dress until now.
It is so long that it wraps my legs entirely and leave only the tip of the dark heels uncovered, combined with the
color of the black dress, entirely made of lace, but despite being very heavy,it makes me feel important, like this is really my world and I am so beautiful to have the features of a Greek model.
"Raise a corner of your mouth ... Give me malice." - the man in front of me continues to scream as he stares
a screen in front of him, where the photos he takes quickly appear.
I do as he orders as I raise my chin again and take a lock of hair between my fingers so
provocative, to then let it slip again on my shoulders, among other soft and wavy locks, then I start breathing again as soon as the photographer beckons me with his hands to tell me we're done.
I let out a sigh of relief, but at the same time worried about his opinion, so I approach him
slowly, with a frown.
I take a quick glance at the screen he continues to stare at, watching the photos scroll in front of his eyes to try to figure out if they are okay or a disaster, but as soon as I clear my throat and
start to ask him how it went, he anticipates me turning to my side and scrutinizing me from head to toe:
"Even better than the real model."
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