As shallow as it sounds, I wanted to be a model at one point in my life. I saw nothing’s wrong in that— Because, YOLO– except for my looks. However, my family saw everything’s wrong in that, inlcuding my looks. Perhaps, they were just fulfilling their role as a family.
Personally, now I think, what the hell was I thinking? It is my standard question after I am over my crushes. However, I tend to ask myself this, even now, when I am not exactly over picturing myself, getting pictured for Vogue. Haha.
I have always been, I mean since my teen, camera conscious. I HATE getting pictured at Shaadi-s. There is not a single time, while getting a picture taken with a group, I was not asked to look at the camera, put back my hair, as hair are always falling in my face and of course, SMILE. The last bit is what I hate the most. I mean, if I had to change one thing about me after my name, it HAS to be my smile.
Speaking of which, I mean seriously what the hell was (am?) I thinking? Even my name is not models wala. I mean, at the started of her career, she has already graced the covers of high brow fashion like W and Vogue, with a perfect combination of cute and s***(sorry can’t help, my middle class values), she is the perfect model and the next big thing in the modelling world. Ladies and Gentlemen, let me introduce you to the new sensation on the block, SAYEEEDAA ABEEEDAAAHH BOOKHAAARI. I mean WT%^$%^^^@%^*. How in the world, can I even think of becoming a model when I have sucha old school name? You don’t imagine Abida as a cute-hot-chic of a model. You imagine Abida as someone fat, short woman, praying on Janeemaz with a tasbeeh in her hand. I think, more than my looks, it is my name that is the biggest hurdle on the way of my modelling career. Abida and super model, just don’t go along. There’s something terribly wrong in that.
If it were up to me, I would name myself, Alexandra. Alexandra and super model? Umm… I know, Alexandra sounds more like a warrior woman. But I would rather be that. I mean, I can be a warrior woman posing for my interview magazine. A hot warrior woman. Teehee.
Also, though I can’t imagine myself, going under the knife, though if I had to, I would definitely go and fix my smile. A perfect smile a way to become a super model, and it is a way to many many things if you still don’t become one.
I think, my name and my smile are the two things that are barring me to become a model. Though, I am not photogenic. However, thanks to photoshop that problem is solved. I have to say, I am not comfortable with photoshop-ing myself. I never photoshop my pictures. Yes. I take selfies. But since, I don’t photoshop, and I have it quite clear that I am not an A-list looking lass, I “cant” (not don’t, I CAN’T) upload my pictures. Sorry, followers, readers and stalkers. This is more suspenseful than whodunit by Agatha Christie. Let’s hope, you don’t I-cant-believe-the-culprit but had-already-figured-it-out. I mean I have dropped enough hints.
Not exactly off topic but still. I don’t understand the stigma attached to modelling. Especially, in out society. I think, it is the only profession that boost you ego. I mean, if you really look, whatever we do in our lives, is to look good. We eat fine food, to look good. We wear stylish, nice cloths, colors that suit us, to look good. We strive for a comfortable lifestyle, so that we be less stressful, less depressed, less wrinkly, less bad skin, basically, to look good. Oh, and we do nice things and be nice with people to look good too. And here, there’s a profession, where all you need to do is to LOOK GOOD, and it PAYS you for that.
How cool. I mean, awesome. I wish, I could become a model. Then I would have no complex over the way I look. I would not be whining about it all the time at my Godforsaken blog. But instead, people would be lauding me at their blogs. Whata life would that be. I wonder, I wonder.