Lately my time has been consumed mostly by modeling gigs, seeing as my two other jobs are barely making ends meet. Its been a wonderful experience to be so immersed in something so wide reaching, and I don't know if I am capable of expressing the feeling – the rush – of being in front of a lens.
I have all of these insecurities, and parts of who I am that I dislike. You would think that I would feel the same way – perhaps even more so whilst someone is snapping pictures of me – but it is the exact opposite. Once you are at the location, you are at the location and there is nothing that you can do to change the way you look because its too late – and all of your personality flaws, all of your faults and limitations can be hidden and you can become whatever you want to be. Its such a freeing feeling.
Its been hard though because I tell every photographer that I do not shoot nudes, that my clothing must be that in accordance to garment standards, and that I do not even do implied nudes. Very few photographers are willing to pay well for that kind of a standpoint when they can get other models to do what I do for free. I would prefer to have people want to work with me using the art that I am able to create be that of sheer talent, rather than to be much desired for my little talent but amazing body that is used solely for objectification purposes.
I felt so wonderful. I felt as if I was finally making my little mark on the world. I haven't accomplished much, and almost every day with my surroundings, my lifestyle, my family; I am reminded of what a failure I feel that I am. And once I began this journey, I thought for sure my family would be proud of me for once. My Parents would proudly say, "That's my girl, the model." and that people would never again say "Thats Karen's sister." or "You will understand when you get older." Because I will have a well respected title.
But I was very wrong.
I finished with a shoot today, and I was telling my Dad about how well it went when he interrupted me. "Cate, I am beginning to like this modeling business less and less." I paused, feeling a little hurt when I said, "is it because of me?" He nodded and then went about to tell me what a disappointment I had become. He felt that my standards were beginning to dwindle away, and that he believed me to be better than this. I went home and cried. I honestly don't know what he wants from me anymore.
I love my Dad. I used to believe that I was his favorite child. But about a year ago, when he was told the truth of my past – though he says he loves me just the same – has never looked at me the same way again. Despite what I do to please him, he never seems to see me as what he used to.
And I hate myself everyday for that.
~C
