I don’t mean to brag, but I used to be a model.

By “used to” I mean I modeled once for a guy that my mom knew who was desperate to find a little girl who owned a soccer uniform. I think that was the only qualification for this particular modeling gig. Also the act of scowling. 

Luckily I had all of the qualifications. I was a girl and I did in fact own a soccer uniform. Go Mustangs! Scowling just comes naturally to me so I had that covered.

I heard my mom on the phone with the guy who was setting it all up. I heard the number twenty-five being thrown around. I thought to myself, “Oh my gosh! I get twenty-five cents to do this! YAY!”

It turns out I got, not twenty-five cents, but twenty-five DOLLARS. Can you imagine how much that is to a little eight year old? I thought I was rich. Let’s be real, twenty-five bucks is still a lot of money to me now, but that’s neither here nor there.

Here’s the shot that was used in an ad for a local, lifestyle newspaper that was seen by maybe hundreds of people. Maybe.

Aren’t I adorable? That’s probably the final time I allowed anyone to ever photograph me in shorts. True story. Also, do you see how intimidating I was to guys even at that age? I have a way with men…a way of scaring them.

My modeling days were not long-lived though. I probably grew three inches taller after this photo was taken.  Apparently you have to be tall and lanky to be a supermodel. What-ever!

And do you know what I probably spent all of that money on? Candy.

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