Page 3 of The Burdens We Share
I know my walk was perfect. She just likes to nitpick every little thing I do. “I’ll do better next time.” I let her believe that she’s right so that she shuts her mouth and finds someone else to bitch at.
She shakes her head at me and waves an event worker over, demanding he bring her her iPad. When he rushes off to retrieve it with a fearful expression on his face, she lowers her face so that it’s angled closer to mine before she adds, “That isn’t the only problem we have.” Her voice is so threatening, I know that whatever she’s about to say to me is going to be far worse than anything else she’s ever said. It’s also conveniently low so that nobody else can hear what comes from her mouth.
“What’s the other problem?” I ask, keeping my chin up so as not to make her think she’s intimidating me.
The worker comes back with her iPad and Nara snatches it from his trembling hands before sending him away– I pity the poor guy. Nara is a huge bitch. People without the ability to stand up for themselves waver at her threats and her tone, but not me. I may be small, but I have the biggest attitude you’ll see.
Nara unlocks her iPad and frowns at the screen the whole time. When she finally flips it around to show me the screen, I stare at it with a blank expression. It’s a photo of me fromthe runway taken only minutes ago. “What am I looking at?” I ask. The photo looks magnificent. My posture is perfect, my expression is perfect, the whole fucking thing is perfect. I killed that shit.
She snaps, “You’re looking at a major problem.” She uses two fingers to zoom in on my stomach and upper thighs. “Take a look here.” She watches my face as she speaks.
My eyes are zeroed in on the screen as I answer, “I’m looking. Not sure what the problem is.”
She blusters, “The problem is that you’ve gained weight. Your stomach looks puffy and untoned and your thighs got bigger.”
I focus in on the screen, assessing those parts of myself that she’s ridiculing. “I’m one hundred and twelve pounds, Nara. I’ve been at a consistent weight for all of my adult life.”
“Well you need to cut it down because if you stay looking the way you just looked on that stage, the modeling jobs are gonna stop and you’re going to be another washed-up model that piqued at the beginning of her career and plummeted right after,” she scolds, an aggressive look in her eyes.
Like you?I think to myself but bite my tongue. I’m a small girl. I’m five-foot-two and I’m thin, lean even. I work out sometimes and eat at maintenance. How could she say I look like I’ve gained weight?
She scoffs, “Don’t believe me? Look over there at Cami.” She points to the right where Cami, the biggest name in the modeling industry stands, talking to another model. Cami is about seven inches taller than I am, and there’s no denying she has the perfect model body—long, lean legs, toned stomach, the works. But she’s also been doing this for years, and I’ve only just started.
When Nara sees me watching Cami she adds, “Cami is at the top for a reason, Ivory. Do you take this career seriously?”
I answer immediately, “Yes, of course I do.”
“Then you need to look like Cami,” Nara adds.
I turn my face back to meet hers, “Nara, she’s a lot taller than I am. Her body is a lot different than mine. I’m never going to look like her.”
She raises a brow, “Not if you continue the way you have been. You need to lose a couple more pounds. If we increase your exercise and lower your caloric intake, we can get you to look like a smaller version of Cami, and I bet you if we do that, you’ll be at the top.”
I never listen to Nara. Usually, her nitpicking goes in one ear and out the other. But could she actually be right about this one thing? I look back at the iPad screen, assessing my body from someone else’s eyes. I look back at Cami and frown. Cami is taller but is that really an excuse? I look at the screen for the third time and really stare at myself. Maybe my thighs do look a little bigger than I thought. And my stomach too. I could see it definitely looks puffier than Cami’s. I’ve always felt good in my skin. Confident, even. But as I stare at the photo, something sharp lodges in my chest.Am I wrong? Has my body changed without me noticing?“How much weight do you think I should lose?”
Nara suddenly looks like the cat that got the cream, most likely because she knows she’s won. “If we can get you down about five pounds, I’d say you’d be golden.”
I hesitate, glancing once more at Cami. I’ve always been so secure and comfortable in my body, but Cami didn’t become as successful as she is today by not being as disciplined as she is. I want to be the top model in the industry. I want it so bad, I’m willing to do whatever it takes, even if that means I have to listen to Nara.
I slowly drag my gaze back to meet Nara’s and I reluctantly nod, “Okay.”
She grins and I suddenly feel like I’ve made a deal with theDevil. “Perfect. I’ll send a nutrition plan to your email.”
I nod and Nara turns, sauntering away with a pep in her step. I frown and turn to face myself in the mirror. I looked at myself so admiringly in the mirror before Nara came over. Now the sight of myself seems to make me feel defeated. I don’t feel good about my appearance now. I feel uncomfortable in my own skin. Like my body betrayed me. Like I’m seeing it through someone else’s eyes—Nara’s eyes.
Usually, when Nara criticizes me, I brush her off and call Brody and Aria to tell them about it and we all laugh and make jokes about Nara, but I don’t feel right telling them about this one. Part of me worries they may agree with her because I saw the photo with my own eyes. I don’t look like Cami at all and if I want to be successful in this industry long-term, I have to look like Cami.
Even when I do tell the girls, we don’t tell Selene because the last thing I need is Selene flying off the handle at Nara for speaking to me like that. I don’t want to bother Selene with something so minor when I see with my own eyes how busy she is. I can handle Nara on my own- I don’t need Selene stepping in.
There’s a weight on my chest right now. A weight that doesn’t feel like it can be removed. I glance back at myself in the mirror and it looks like that sparkle I had in my eyes before Nara came over is gone completely. This is not a feeling I’d wish on my worst enemy. To be disgusted by the sight of yourself. To feel uncomfortable in your own skin.
I spring out of my chair before I can have a breakdown and hurry over to the curtained dressing room with my name on it. I just wanna get out of here and go home. The high of being on that stage has long worn off, leaving me feeling empty and broken. Nara really just deteriorated all of my self confidence.
I step inside the dressing room and close the curtain behindme. I remove my phone from my pink duffle bag and see a few random notifications, but at the top is an email from Nara with my new nutrition plan. She sent that so fast that it’s almost like she had it ready to go and was just waiting to press send.
I can’t look at it right now. If I do, I might start to hate my appearance more, and that will only send me into a tailspin. I quickly remove my lounge clothes from my bag and change out of the lingerie. Once I’m fully dressed in a matching gray leggings and t-shirt set, I lift my bag and sling it over my shoulder, ready to go.
I stop in my tracks as the bag hits my back. Behind it on the bench, almost hiding, was a pink rose. Now that the bag is removed, the flower comes into view. My face pales and I freeze in my tracks.
