Wednesday, July 14, 2004

almost famous

I went to the casting call yesterday. I almost chickened out, but my husband encouraged me to go, saying that it might be fun. And he was right. It was. After a half hour cab ride that should have taken 10 minutes, I arrived at the tiny office of Shelley Producciones. There were about 3 other people waiting when I got there, 2 men and a woman. The guy behind the desk gave me a form to fill out and happily the top of the form explained why I was there. Apparently, I was auditioning to be a model for a one day photo shoot for a West Indian Rum adverstisement. If I got the gig, I'd be paid $4,000 for a days work and would be privy to seeing my face on billboards, posters and rum bottles all over Mexico for a whole year!

I had to write in my height and weight (and I lied a bit about the weight, dropping 3 kilos in less than a second), the color of my hair, skin, and eyes, my shirt size and my pants size (again I went down a size on the pants). And then, after maybe 6 minutes of waiting, I was called into the other room.

The guy in the little studio room was very friendly. Told me that my hair was perfect. He had asked me to take it out of its ponytail and bush it out afro-like which I was happy to do. He had me do a couple of pre-fab model poses which he filmed on video camera and then I said my name, gave him a left profile, a right profile, a little twirl and I was done. They'll call me and let me know, he said.

I wish the casting call had been a year ago when I was in top form for my wedding. Ten kilos lighter than I am right now (and that soul food in Savannah didn't help matters any). On Monday, my husband and I started Atkins again, but sadly, it'll take a while before I'm back in the pants that I've "outgrown" over the past year. And yet despite the thunder thighs and the beer belly, I'm crossing my fingers that the rum commercial people want someone with hair just like mine. There was no one else in the waiting room who looked like me- as I waited to get called, 2 more women came in, both very thin and tall, but with straight, straight hair. Though, I suppose they could wear wigs. Still, until I get the rejection call or until the day of the shoot passes (whichever comes first), I'm daring to dream that they will pick me and airbrush away my flab and bulges. I want to be on a billboard. I want to be on a bottle of rum. I want to make $4000 for a day's work.

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