I pulled the rest of the dress down my body. Modeling sucks, besides the money and strutting. And clothes, too. I have to keep going on these bullshit ass diets that make me look like Taylor Swift after liposuction. I hate it. My competition, India Westbrooks, bumped me while walking past. Bitch. I stood in line, ready to walk. They called my name, and I walked out, strutting my ass off. Cameras flashed. I hated that, too. But, what caught my eye more than the cameras, was a man my age, with long, wavy hair. He. Was. Fine. I turned back around and walked backstage.
•°•1 Hour Later•°•
Finally. They were calling the winners. When I walked out, I almost choked. HE was presenting the prize. And, I ended up winning.
•°•High Life by Daft Punk•°•