It's not easy to forget about being in a girl's body. It's a little easier to forget about writing about it, since the last thing I want to do after standing around all day looking like this is sit back and write about it. Then sometimes I think I should say something because it'll help, but then I get tired of trying.
I guess it doesn't totally suck. I mean it's just a body. Two legs, two eyes. Not big or strong. Can't pee standing up. Hard to get comfy lying around with tits flopping up. I don't hate them I guess. Mostly they just hang there looking nice but being useless. I'd like 'em a lot better on someone else.
I'm supposed to be a model. Clara's supposed to be starting a career. But that's not me, I don't know anything about being beautiful and I don't really want to try. But Anthony keeps telling me to work on it. Clara has a portfolio full of her photos of herself. Some of them are really arty, some of them are just hot. She looks like a totally different person from the girl I see in the mirror when I wake up. I can see a lot of work goes into making even a hot chick like Clara into one of those girls in the photos. It's an attitude, and I don't have it.
I've been to two photoshoots in the last month. One, they wanted me to wear a bikini, which I guess is whatever, okay, it's like sitting around in my underwear anyway, and what do I care if people see this body half-dressed? But they sent me away because my tan was uneven, since I've been in the sun a lot for my other job. I thought they had computers for that shit. Also, I forgot to shave my legs and stuff. Whatever.
The other one I actually got to stay fully dressed, and just lean on the hood of a car. The photographer kept getting mad at me and telling me to "loosen up" and "have more fun." I'm trying to look and act like those photos but I guess something's still missing. They didn't end up using my photos, so I got paid like fifty bucks and shoved out the door. Anthony is not happy with my work, but what can I say? I never learned how to model. Sue me.
The rest of the time I'm working at the stupid snack bar on the beach. God, what is that place. It's still blazing hot and it's almost Halloween. Hot chicks traipsing around in bikinis and yet still guys come over to talk to me. One thing I'm getting better at is showing them I'm not interested without having to yell at them to fuck off. Still it's hard not to attract them. The shirt they make me wear is low cut, and the shorts are so high they ride up my buttcrack. Real attractive. I don't know why real girls like dressing this way.
It's fucked up, though. I'm sleepy all the time. A couple weeks ago I yelled at a guy to stop staring at my tits and fuck off, and my manager said any more outbursts like that and I'd be fired, which sucks because I need this job. I had to borrow money from Anthony to make Clara's rent this month. Oh, man remind me to tell you about some of the people I'm living with sometime. Bunch of fucking characters they are. Whatever, I don't wanna talk about it right now.
"I don't know why real girls like dressing this way."
Generally we don't like it... it's to make guys do things for us.
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