The Phoenix Diaries (ONGOING)

Chapter 22

- One month later-

"Get up bitch! You gonna be late!" Exclaims Aaliyah.

       I finally got out of that hotel. Thank God. Hotel living isn't as fun as you'd think. It's pretty expensive too, obviously. I feel bad for my poor parents who had to pay it all. Right now, I'm living with Aaliyah Harris, the girl I met at the modeling agency. We've become pretty good friends. She gets me where I need to go and doesn't expect anything of me. You wouldn't know it, but she's actually the sweetest girl you could meet.

       Today's the fashion show that I've been dreading for weeks. But y'know what, with the help of Celeste, I'm not dreading it as much as I originally was.

      "I got you an iced coffee and breakfast sandwich so hurry up!" Aaliyah says, throwing them at me.

      "Actually, I'm not eating." I say.

     Aaliyah looks at me like I just said the craziest thing ever.

     "That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard come out of your mouth. Why not?" She asks.

     "I'm fasting before the fashion show. I want to look as good as possible out there." I say.

     "First of all, that ain't how a fast works. Second of all, under those bright lights, the hot ass LA heat, not eating can only cause a disaster." Aaliyah warns.

       "Ugh," I groan," you sound just like Celeste."

       That's the difference between Aaliyah and Celeste. Aaliyah's more realistic while Celeste is more optimistic. Aaliyah tells me the truth, no matter what. She'll tell me if I look fat, what I should or shouldn't be eating. She tells me how to impress agents and important people in Hollywood. Celeste gives me the confidence I need. She always tells me that I'm beautiful. She tells me not to care what other people think. Both are good for me but the reason I chose to live with Aaliyah was because she'd keep me grounded.

      "Yeah? That's a first. In this case, Celeste is right. You better eat, girlfriend." She says.

     She watches me for a couple minutes so I pretend to eat. I take a few bites from my sandwich and a sip of two of iced coffee. She smiles at me but a minute after she leaves, I throw out the food.

       At the fashion show, I get into my first outfit and wait to get my hair and makeup done. I'm waiting an awfully long time. I look around and notice everyone else getting worked on. I also notice something else about the models I never noticed before, they're all light skinned in some way. There's diversity in body, ethnicity, religion, etc. but there's no one in the room larger than myself or darker in complexion which is a little shocking.

       I then look at myself in the mirror. I'm modeling one of those plus size bikinis. My arms look huge. My boobs look misshapen and odd. I stand up. My stomach jiggles a little bit and I get insecure. My ass looks huge and lumpy, not like the perfect Kardashian-Jenner ass. My stretch marks on my thighs are slightly showing.

       Just sit down and don't think about it, I tell myself, you'll look beautiful once you're in hair and makeup.

      "Hi." A voice says awkwardly.

       I turn around in my seat and am greeted by a woman whom I have never met before. She has short baby pink hair that is curled by a curling iron. She has ivory skin. She's skinny with blue eyes. Her makeup is flawless, it looks like she walked straight out of face tune.

       "I noticed that no ones come by to work on your hair or makeup yet. Do you have any of your makeup products?" She asks.

       I feel my eyes widen.

       "We were supposed to bring our own products?" I gasp.

       "No,' she says,' not necessarily. But we don't have any complexion products that are as dark as your skin tone."

      I look at my skin tone. Is she for real? My skins not even that dark. They should have my shade. Or at least I think they should.

       "And your hair. I'm pretty sure they intended it to be styled differently." She says.

       "I thought you guys were supposed to do my makeup AND hair." I reply.

       "Yes but look at us stylists." She says.

       I look around at the stylists. They're all white women. I look at the models. If their hair is curly, it's wavy or loose curls. which makes it easier to be styled.

       "I'm sorry to tell you but we don't have the training to deal with someone like you. African American models with dark complexions and kinky hair usually bring their own products just in case." She says.

       My heart drops. I can't be treated right on set? I get up and go to the bathroom. I look at myself in the mirror. Are they serious? I really have to model in a show looking like this?

       The lighting in the bathroom is incredibly harsh. I start to feel...lightheaded. I need to get out of here.

       "Phoenix?" Asks a British accent.

       I'm looking Celeste right in the face.

       "Are you okay? You don't look so good." She says.

       "Yeah,' I lie,' I'm fine."

       I start walking but I'm blacking out.

       "You're not okay,' she says,' your legs are super wobbly right now."

     The last thing I remember is Celeste coming up behind me. Everything went black after that.