Posted On July 18, 2014 By In Miscellaneous

Naked Modeling


My first and only time as a figure model prompted a disapproving, “You’re better than this,” text from my mother with a warning about ruining my reputation.  But it was much classier than that.  It was life modeling.  I was Rose and they were my Jacks, all 7 of them, drawing me like their French girls.




I dropped my towel on the small stage and it  was like a public humiliation dream come true, except I wasn’t embarrassed.  I only got embarrassed when I thought about what would happen if I farted.  Would they be able to tell?  Even if it was a silent one, would my butt cheeks give a little bounce or something?  I had never seen a naked butt fart!  I prayed it wouldn’t happen to me.  Not tonight.





They posed me: I was standing easy with one leg slightly bent, one arm to my side and the other clasping it behind my back.  It was like I was waiting in line to get my taxes done or something equally unthrilling and regular, just without clothes.





Maybe it shouldn’t be that hard to be alone in my head for 2 hours, but God, I was boring.  If you are ever going to be a figure model, I recommend coming prepared with an abundance of thinking material.  As it was, I occupied my time with counting backwards by 3’s, starting at 537 and singing sons in my head; I even made up stories about the people staring at my naked bod.  I made up a story about the dark-haired 24-year-old in a leather jacket.  Trevor worked nights at a Lays chip factory and ate cold pizza for breakfast in a hardcore way.  The last time he ate an apple was in 2006 and he never showed any affection, except to his cat, Miranda.  Trevor spent the first break napping in a chair with his arms folded.  After the second break he didn’t come back and remained napping through the wonder of my naked body until the very end.

After the 2 hours were up they let me look at their work.  I was thoroughly unimpressed, but made noises of approval.  120 minutes of trying not to move, just for some pencil lines that barely looked like me!

As I was packing up the artist who recruited me handed me a 20 dollar bill.  I felt like a cheap hooker who lucked out with a client who “only wanted to talk” and also a bit like that time I got paid the same amount for babysitting 3 children for 5 hours.

I put my clothes back on (never a fun thing after being naked), and thought of how many trips to Taco Bell this night could buy.

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Kelsey Darling is a writer for Writtalin. Kelsey recently-ish graduated with an unhelpful degree from Portland State University. After a brief venture to Utah to live amongst the Mormons, she is now the palest person living in San Diego. She has a deep passion for whales, prominent eyebrows, and silver foxes. She has never been cool and neither has her hair.