Print modeling got my face out there, but fit modeling paid way more. I loved my agent at Ideal Models. She was super professional and had tons of experience in that industry. We made lots of money together. Unlike my past sleazy male agents, who were unqualified fame whores, that just wanted to get laid.
Working as a fit model felt like being an alive opinionated mannequin. I was required to maintain the same measurements while designers made clothes fit for my body. Sizes mean nothing. I have worn small, medium, and large outfits all while remaining the same measurements.
I met with designers regularly for fittings. They would send adjustments off to manufacturers and have me come back to refit once the garments were returned. I got to watch the clothing creation and alteration processes for a wide variety of different international companies.
Since I was constantly changing, I got used to random people seeing me naked. Feeling exposed became normal. Especially since I was modeling lingerie, swimwear, and little tiny costumes.
I’ve been every kind of slutty nurse, maid, or princess imaginable. Of course I never wanted to offend the designers or their work, but it was hard not to laugh at some of the assignments.
Most companies manufactured clothes in other countries. A lot of the designers spoke in foreign languages, so I rarely understood what people were saying or what was going on.
One time a lingerie company had me stand on a table in a latex dominatrix costume. The owners drank green tea and chain smoked cigarettes while screaming at each other in Mandarin around me. It sounded like they were talking mad shit, but I wasn’t sure if it was about me, or their cheap skanky little costumes.
The designers at Leg Avenue were amazing. I loved working and playing dress up with them! One day an owner or manager lady came into a fitting and started screaming at the designers for using me. “Why are you using this flat ass model with big fat titties? Our customers have butts unlike her. Get a new model immediately!” It was beyond awkward listening to people talk about me as if I couldn’t hear them. Like, hi bitch! I’m standing right here!
Frankie’s sexy bikini company hired me to do fittings for them. All their print models were hot young famous celebrities. Frankie’s large swimsuits were made to fit my body in private fittings. All the it girls like Delilah Belle and Kylie Jenner modeled their extra small swimsuits in public on the runway. On my first day they told me that I was too pasty, so they had me leave, and go get a spray tan. That didn’t make sense, because we weren't even shooting, I was just there to try on clothes. I always needed to look hotter, tanner, and blonder to be part of that world. The fake tan ended up getting all over their fabrics, which pissed them off even more. Frankie got mad at me for wearing a nude thong under her bikinis during fittings, but hygiene is very important to me. I don’t know where the fuck their other models have been! Their rude comments and sexy branding made me feel like a pale frumpy fat bitch. It was hard to hear their team compare me to all the fabulous hot skinny print models on their social media accounts. They even asked me to cut my agent out of our deal, even though she was the one who connected us. I was going to quit working for them, but they ended up firing me for losing ten pounds.
Sunsets Swimwear company had me try on a bunch of sexy bathing suits for their team of designers. The company owner came into the room while I was trying on a bikini that was way too small for me. It was super cheeky, so he asked me to pull it down, to cover up more of my bottom. I told him that I’d rather have my ass hanging out than my front. That response deeply upset him, so he stormed out of the room. The designers explained that the word ass offended him. I couldn’t believe that a sexy bikini company was owned by an old prude conservative man. Part of that job was to change in front of people and he sure seemed to enjoy watching. Honestly, I didn’t know that ass was a bad word. I thought I was being polite by saying front instead of pussy.
My weight and appearance became my obsession. I would measure myself multiple times a day. Don’t even get me started on my strange relationship with mirrors. If I was too thin before a gig I would binge eat. If I was too fat before a gig I would starve myself or throw up.
The more I obsessed over losing weight the more my body clung onto it. Modeling was such an unhealthy mind fuck. Especially since I was trying out so many diets and workouts around the same time. It was hard having my insecurities constantly scrutinized by others publicly.
Most of my friends grew up performing in Orange County. Confiding in them about body issues was pointless, considering they all struggled with eating disorders. Some of them gave me tips on how to pretend to eat in front of other people. “Just twirl your spaghetti while gossiping. Push it around your plate. No one will notice you’re not eating.”
Good lord. Who doesn’t have an eating disorder in Orange County?
All the people that I surrounded myself with were constantly putting me down. It felt like everyone hated me, but no one hated me more than I hated myself.
My mental and digestive issues kept getting worse and I unintentionally ended up losing a bunch of weight. Since it was my job to stay around the same measurements I lost all my clients. They praised me for looking hotter while firing me.
Natural Model Management had me model for a campaign that featured healthy bodies. Their goal was to promote a variety of different shapes and sizes. Most of their roster was plus sized and they ended up cutting me for being too thin. The agency director told me that I needed to gain or lose over thirty pounds if I ever wanted to be a “real model.”
I was signed with Natural Models for a few months, but didn’t book anything through them. The agency owner convinced me to hire her boyfriend to take pictures of me. Once again I dropped hundreds of dollars on my portfolio for an agency that couldn’t get me any work. That experience was such a waste of time considering I was already booking my own gigs online regularly.
They actually had another girl named Danica on their roster who did tons of shoots. She was like a bigger, louder, richer, blonder version of me. Back in those days the modeling industry embraced extremes, so it was hard for me to get much work as an “in-betweenie.”
Most gigs required me to maintain a certain look or size. One of my first auditions ever was to be a Radio City Rockette. Everyone they hired looked exactly the same. Blonde, tall, skinny, with legs for days. I starved myself for weeks before that audition. I covered my room in magazine pictures of inspirational anorexic waifs. I ate watermelon followed by sweet potatoes, to absorb the water weight. The Rockettes required their dancers to be tall and skinny. The maximum weight they allowed was 125 pounds and I weighed in at 124.5 pounds. I made myself pee and throw up right before they weighed and measured me.
The Rockettes tap choreography at the audition was super intense. I was way too hungry and sluggish to get through the routines. I’m surprised I didn’t keel over mid shuffle ball change. They offered me the chance to play a dancing Christmas tree in the background of their tour. I declined the job and decided to go in a different direction.
One time I showed up for a Pair of Thieves socks and underwear photoshoot super hungover. One of the brand owners introduced himself then asked me if I wanted any coffee or anything. When I said yes to the coffee all of his employees glared at me. They obviously put him up on a pedestal.
Cash was hot as fuck and we hit it off right away. I think he appreciated being treated like a normal human being. I loved hearing how much he enjoyed seeing his work on my body.
Another one of the models viciously confronted me. “Do you even know who he is?!?! He’s married to Jessica!!! JESSICA!!!” That bitch must have been a really big Jessica fan. I probably should’ve known who he was from working at TMZ. People seemed to recognize him for being a movie star's husband, but failed to see him as his own hot successful entity.
We only spent a few hours together, but I felt like we got to know each other pretty well. When we finished shooting he asked me if I wanted to go out to lunch. I said no, because that other model made me feel like a homewrecker. Fuck that bitch! I should’ve gone out with him anyway! It’s rare to feel so connected to someone that quickly.
The other model followed me out to my car to yell at me even more. “Didn’t you see all that HONEST stuff in there?” Honestly, I didn’t even notice it. She was in fan mode while I was in flirt mode.
I think she was jealous, because she wasn’t the one having conversations with him. Nobody cared about her boring stories about her boring husband. I know this sounds dumb, but he kinda made me believe in love at first sight. Who knows if we were even flirting, he was probably just trying to be nice.
Cash and Jessica are both outrageously hot, rich, and successful. It’s not like I’m the only person that finds them attractive. They probably get invited to threesomes all the time!
By the way, I don’t think any of the photos from the shoot turned out. Probably because I was talking in each shot. I never saw them posted anywhere, but whatever, it was a pretty fun day of work. We got paid to shoot champagne guns at each other while running around town in our underwear.
When I told my friends about my crush on Cash I got such mixed reactions. Some of them encouraged me to pursue him while others urged me to back off. I didn’t want to fuck up his family or anything! I could’ve gotten a greek salad with him though. People don’t usually feed models. Guess I just stayed neutral. I followed him on social media and moved on. I was reading into our interaction way too much anyway.
Pair of Thieves had me come back again for some fittings. When I returned the receptionist said “I sure remember you” in a snarky voice. Later on I overheard their team gossiping about me being a gold digging bubbly flirt. Towards the end of the fitting, an assistant came by, and handed me some underwear in a size extra small. She asked me to wear it for the owners in their private offices. The designer thought that was extremely misogynistic and inappropriate. She apologized and told me to go home immediately. It sucked because I really wanted to see him again. I probably would have walked into his office butt ass naked. In my defense, who doesn’t love CASH?
I’m not accusing him of having a wandering eye or anything. I was the one aggressively flirting with him, to the point that all of his other employees called me out. Maybe the company owners invited me back to their offices OR maybe his jealous employees were fucking with me again? IDFK.
About ten years later I released these stories as a blog on my website. Around that same time, a girl I knew from TMZ asked me why Cash followed me on Instagram. I sent her a link to these stories and she never responded. A couple weeks later TMZ reported that Cash and Jessica were headed for divorce. I liked the post and wondered if their drama had anything to do with me. That could be crazy. I slid into his DMs like a fucking moron and wrote “YOU’RE SINGLE?! That makes me want to come back to LA, even though it’s on fire! Hope you and your family are doing well, considering...” He never responded to my message, so now I have to fucking kill myself.
I was kinda in a similar situation back at Afterbuzz with Kevin. His business partner girlfriend Maria was so pretty, skinny, and famous. They were both unrealistically perfect, just like their pictures online. Everything they did was for media attention. Their relationship looked like a management business deal. He made sure she was always dressed up, with a full face of makeup, ready to be seen. I heard lots of rumors about their flings with other people.
One of my friends worked in production on Dancing with the Stars. They told me that Maria and Derek were shamelessly flirtatious over the walkie talkies.
Dancing is sexy. It brings people closer together!
Kevin told me that I was his favorite employee. When I asked him why he said it was because I liked getting wasted and having fun. The other people we worked with seemed like desperate thirsty tryhards.
Every woman Kevin dated became famous thanks to his management, deals, connections, and advice. He invented Carmen Electra and Maria Menounos, so he gave me an offer to be his next one. All I’d have to do is suck his dick, lose thirty pounds, dye my hair blonder, and wear high heels. Then I could finally be a STAR!
My reaction was so fucking awkward. I enjoyed hanging out with him, but I couldn’t imagine having to be on like that all the time. My personal lifestyle revolved around smoking weed on a couch in cozy sweatpants with my cat.
Their lives looked so fake and exposed. I had no desire to dump my comfortable privacy for uncomfortable fabricated publicity stunts.
Shortly after I rejected Kevin’s offer he publically proposed to Maria on a radio show and then married her on a TV show. I think they’re perfect for eachother!
After making a stupid gold digger joke that didn’t land well, they set me up on a blind date with an elderly billionaire. His private driver picked me up, served me champagne, and drove me to a fancy waterfront restaurant. Mr. Billionaire looked older than my parents. His little bald head barely reached my nipples. Most of his money came from making dolls that kinda looked like me. We demolished bottles of expensive wines and ordered multiple entrees. I didn’t understand any of his ancient jokes or references, but I laughed at them anyway, just to seem polite.
In the middle of our date Mr. Billionaire got a call from Ryan Seacreast. I made him answer and put it on speaker phone. They had been close friends for years. I assumed they were childhood besties. They had so many inside jokes that went straight over my head.
We spent most of our date night drunkenly chatting with Ryan Seacrest. He told me that I have a great name for show business. “No need to get a stage name!” Seacrest kept practicing introducing himself as a host version of me “Hi, I’m Danica Kennedy & you’re listening to 102.7 KIIS FM!”
At the end of the date we hugged and went our separate ways. I ate and drank way too much that night. There’s no way I could have put out even if I wanted to. That date inspired Mr. Billionaire to get back with his gold digger ex wife. My friends were sad things didn’t work out, because they wanted him to pay for our next vacation. They encouraged me to keep going after wealthy senior citizens. “You don’t even have to look at him. Just do it doggy till he dies.”
I’ve struggled with money issues, mommy issues, and daddy issues for most of my life. Maybe I should’ve pulled an Anna Nichole Smith?
Afterbuzz had a spin off network called Black Hollywood Live. The black hosts worked for free while the white owners kept all of the profits. It was giving slavery. Anyway they threw a Black Hollywood Live event one night. I got verbally invited at the last minute and I wasn’t one to turn down a party back in those days. Nobody told me it was a serious fancy black tie event. Since it was held in a backyard I assumed it was just a casual summer BBQ pool party. Most of my black friends had big family gatherings in LA filled with great food, music, and dancing…so that’s kind of what I was expecting.
I showed up in shorts, a tank top, and flip flops, with a watermelon purse. A JAPANESE WATERMELON PURSE AT A BLACK EVENT. I was one of the only white people there and I didn’t know there was a racist stereotype about black people loving watermelons. I mean, who doesn’t love watermelons? They’re delicious! Kevin pulled me aside and gave me one of Maria’s tiny little outfits to borrow. Her closet was the size of my apartment, but it was hard to find anything to squeeze into. The whole event was giving GET OUT. I bounced as fast as fucking possible.
If you thought that Elle Woods bunny costume or Cady Heron’s ex wife costume were cringe, trust me, my party outfit of choice was way worse.
I was so nervous to tell my half Black half Japanese roommate about my Little Tokyo Kawaii styled watermelon purse incident. Luckily she thought it was fucking hilarious and she made me tell her entire family. Then I turned it around and started blaming her “WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME? HOW’D YOU LET ME GO OUT LIKE THIS?!” My black friends thought it was funny, because they knew that I was completely oblivious, but my white friends were super offended. Let’s just call it a dumb blonde moment.
I’ve had weird experiences with a lot of famous people. Their public appearances through the media and my brief interactions with them do not explain who they really are. I know that my viewpoints of them are skewed from being in strange or uncomfortable circumstances.
A lot of people looked down on me for being an intern, extra actor, tour guide, fit model, and production assistant. My stories and perspectives are from the bottom of the Hollywood food chain.
Kevin and Maria have big hearts and mean well. I don’t think they’ve ever intended to use, hurt, or offend anyone. Sometimes money and notoriety can alter people's moves through life. I know that I have come across as a thirsty ruthless fame whore too, even though that’s not how I see myself.
Humans are complex creatures with conflicting characteristics. Most famous people have substance, morals, values, and real lives that we never see.
Kevin and Maria rescued tons of dogs over the years. I think it’s kinda weird that they only save little white dogs, but whatever. Anyone who gives a fuck about animals will ultimately win me over. I could totally see myself hoarding black cats, so who am I to judge?
BET hired me to host an event. I thought it was weird that they picked me, because I’m white. Everyone seemed confused and upset when I showed up to work. They assumed that I was black because of my name. The casting director got in huge trouble when everyone saw what I looked like. The crew gave me bomb food and drinks before asking me to leave. At least I didn’t bring that fucking watermelon purse.
Talking about racism in America is uncomfortable, but we need to have hard conversations to progressively move forward. I’ve been unintentionally racist out of ignorance, which is so fucking embarrassing. I never intended to hurt or offend people with my stupidity. I have also seen and experienced intense racism all over the country. I considered editing those stories out of this, but I think there are valuable lessons to be learned from them. Segregation still exists in America, especially in the south and in the beauty industry.
By the way I got drunk and took another host home with me that night. The sex was really fun, but of course he confessed to having a serious girlfriend right after we hooked up. Every man in LA that made a move on me had a wife or girlfriend. People in relationships need to get out of the dating pool.
That BET gig reminded me of when I got fired from hosting West Hollywood drag shows. I guess somebody eventually realized that I’m not a real drag queen. My dramatic wigs and makeup stumped a few people at first. Most of my friends were theatrical gay men who loved to perform and party with me. Of course it makes more sense for gay clubs to have real male drag queens host drag events, but I was crushed when I lost those hosting jobs, because they were so much fun!
For some reason I seem to come across as a black girl or a gay boy on paper. People are always shocked at what I look like when they eventually meet me in person. I’m not sure if it’s my name, resume, or all the places I’ve lived, but it’s happened so many times throughout my life. A lot of my friends have said things like “Oh my god you’re such a gay boy!” I’m like ‘Is this how people find out they’re trans? Am I like the last person to know?!”
IDENTITY CRISIS!
I booked a few print modeling jobs with DryBar. They wanted to pay me with hair products instead of money, but I convinced them to give me a couple hundred bucks instead. I drank a bottle of wine the night before their shoot, so I was hungover as fuck on set. The makeup artist complained that my lips and skin were too dehydrated, but I knew that the bags under my eyes were the real problem.
Pictures always turn out best when the model doesn’t give a fuck or try too hard. It’s the model look, ya know? DGAF vibes. Less is more sometimes.
The DryBar owners praised my poses, even though they were a bit out there. Their retouchers fixed my face in post which made me hot, but unrecognizable.
I went on a trip to New York City and it was crazy to see my face all over the place. Those highly edited hungover images of me were plastered all over every DryBar, Nordstrom, and Sephora in America. It made me feel like a fucking star! It was my big supermodel moment.
The modeling gigs that put my face everywhere paid me barely anything compared to the work that no one ever saw.
People assumed I made bank from that big DryBar photoshoot. Meanwhile I was making pretty great money modeling slutty Halloween costumes for Leg Avenue in the designers private offices.
Fit modeling gigs usually paid around three hundred bucks per hour and they had me working regularly. It was an easy job minus all the mental problems from constantly obsessing over my looks, weight, and measurements.
Many companies used their name and notoriety as a form of currency, but it’s not like I could pay my bills with that shit. Sadly people take advantage of artists all the time. I did all sorts of unpaid projects in LA with the hopes of them leading towards bigger or better things, but they rarely did. It’s so embarrassing, but humiliation was the cost of entry to that fucked up world.
One of the reasons hosting and modeling appealed to me was because I thought it might help boost my self confidence. Those jobs often left me feeling insecure, not beautiful. Sure, there were fun times, but it was hard being picked apart regularly. The constant criticism about my looks, size, and attitude left me feeling broken and ugly. Over the years I learned there are healthier ways to boost self love and self worth.
As I got older I started booking mom roles, which felt like a sign to reroute and change directions. The kids playing my children never bothered me, but their stage moms were the fucking worst.
I modeled holiday pajamas for one of Steve Harvey’s shows and they gave me a sexy fake husband. He moved from Oahu to the mainland to pursue modeling. I love Hawaii! I couldn’t wait to get back out there to reconnect with nature and wildlife. I desperately needed to hug a fucking tree or touch some fucking grass. Sexy model boy couldn’t understand why I would want to leave a city filled with opportunities for some tropical plants in the middle of nowhere. I couldn’t believe that he ditched paradise for shit hole LA.
He worried that my modeling career would end if I moved to Hawaii, but it already felt like it was over, thanks to all the mom roles. Ditching some soul sucking Hollywood gigs in exchange for some much needed aloha sounded like a great trade to me.
It’s natural for people to outgrow environments and see what else is out there. I guess some people are perfectly happy staying in the same place forever. That sounds stagnant and boring to me, unless you live on Kauai.
Steve Harvey’s show was filmed on the Universal Studios backlot, so my former coworkers would pass by me on the tours. Seeing people stay in the exact same place as where I left them made me appreciate change. I’m proud I have the strength and endurance to keep moving forward, despite all the obstacles and setbacks.
It’s true that cities have more job opportunities, but that was not fulfilling my true desires. Working was no longer my main priority. I was ready and eager to escape the rat race. Nature has always been my true happy place. Hammocks on a beach between palm trees sounded better than the lifestyle I was living. I don’t want to sound ungrateful, but the city life struggles were real. Hollywood was filled with high highs and low lows. I will always love art and performing, no matter where my life takes me.
My fake husband asked me about modeling agents while I questioned him about volcanic adventures. Our fake son's stage mom was such a cock block, she kept sitting in between us to keep us from talking. I was just trying to flirt with him to feel closer to Hawaii.
During Steve Harvey’s fashion show we strut down the runway wearing flannel pajamas and thick ass robes. The outfits and stage lights were so hot, we profusely sweat off all our makeup. The pajamas really confused my Hawiian hubby. He asked me if people really sleep in “Christmas Costumes” on the mainland.
It kinda got stressful not knowing where my next paycheck was coming from. Imagine reapplying or re auditioning for work every single day.
Constantly attempting to convince people that I was talented led me to doubt myself. I got tired of spending all my time and energy building up other people's bank accounts and empires instead of my own. When my main focus was on being a part of somebody else's vision, I neglected to follow my own dreams, goals, visions, and passions.
The smartest artists focus on making their own things, but they also participate in creative collaborations to help get their work and ideas out there.
If anyone wants to be an artist they could use the internet as a platform to perform and connect with likeminded people. I could’ve built my own stage, had creative control, and probably much more success. When you work for someone else the money goes to them. If you work for yourself the money goes straight to you.
I started a photography business with my best friend Kaia. In a way she was the photographer who made me a model and I was the model who made her a photographer. Since I was aging out of the young modeling game, working in photography appealed to me. I’ve always been such a shutterbug!
We loved playing dressup and taking pictures together. Most of our friends were brilliant artists. So we had so much fun creating different teams, looks, concepts, and images with our favorite characters.
People warned us that living and working together could ruin our friendship, but we didn’t listen. Our bond felt unbreakable. Best friends forever!
It was hard running a business with someone who didn’t want to work. Kaia was a very talented artist, but she was also extremely unmotivated. Trying to get her off the couch was nearly impossible. She wasn’t driven to make money, because she didn’t have to be. Her wealthy parents spoiled the shit out of her. She just wanted to smoke weed and watch TV all day everyday. We definitely could have used more balance. Our artwork was amazing, but it was a pretty stagnant and unproductive chapter.
By the way there’s nothing wrong with spending your life on a couch, smoking weed, while watching tv, if you own it. Shit if my life was sponsored, I’d be chillin too!
Some people wanted to work with just her while other people wanted to work with just me. Making ourselves an exclusive team held us both back from so many opportunities.
Kaia and I met at The Orange County School of the Arts while performing. An Orange County billionaire hired us students to put on a surprise musical about his wife’s life.
Mindy Burbano got discovered while cawing like a crow from Oprah’s live audience. She later became a host, model, and actress. Shortly after that she retired and married rich. Mindy’s husband acted like he was just taking her to some random kid’s show. She had no idea it was going to be a whole musical showcase about her entire life story.
Mindy was hella pregnant. I wondered if her water was going to break on stage or somewhere in the theater. Kaia played Oprah while I played a bunch of random extra characters.
I was sleeping beauty, a dental hygienist, a baseball player, a singer, and an audience member all in a thirty minute show. The whole time I was stripping in the wings in hopes of getting into my next costume on time.
At the end of our performance I was totally winded. The billionaire came up on stage and started acting like Oprah. He yelled “YOU GET A LAPTOP! YOU GET A LAPTOP! YOU GET A LAPTOP! YOU GET A LAPTOP!” He gave all of us brand new MacBooks and printers! Even the broke kids like me got spoiled, because we had great connections and opportunities in Orange County.
Oprah Winfrey was invited to see our musical, but she didn’t show up. I’m sure she had better things to do. That musical showcase was such a funny way to befriend someone. Especially Oprah, I mean Kaia.
One time Kaia’s Parisian artist friends flew out to LA for a photoshoot with a famous pinup model dancer named Dita Von Teese. We met up with them at a Hollywood Hills mansion in hopes of them hiring us both to help out at the photoshoot. They were such cliche French people who were way too cool for us. The creative director looked like an emo goth vampire. We expected him to levitate around and float from room to room. He spoke in a whiny French baby voice when he begged for some drugs. Kaia was on it. She went to go fetch him some pills while I talked to their team about creative ideas.
They asked me to help out at the photoshoot. I agreed to assist them, because I was beyond stoked to meet my favorite pinup model! I assumed Kaia would also be included, considering they were her fucking friends.
The team ended up telling Kaia that they didn’t need her at the photoshoot. I probably should have turned down that gig for the sake of our friendship, but I went anyway, because I was broke as fuck, and needed some money. Her “‘friends” later told me that they didn’t want some “druggie girl” around everyone on a “professional set.” They acted like she was a meth head, but she was just sharing her ADHD meds! I guess adderall is kinda methy.
Of course I was the first one to show up at Dita Von Teese’s house on the day of the shoot. She answered the door in a robe with no hair or makeup. It was shocking to see the pinup queen au natural. Her mansion looked like a cottage from a fairytale. She was like a burlesque Snow White princess. When I told her I was there for the photoshoot she looked confused. She didn’t have anything on her schedule. The vampire-like director magically appeared then begged and cried in his French baby voice for her to model for his creative visions.
MERDE! ZUT ALOR! PUTAIN!
S’IL VOUS PLAÎT! MON AMOUR! POUR L’ART!
SACREBLEU! HON HON HON!
*french choking sounds*
I had no idea what the fuck was going on.
Dita Von Teese obliged to the emo artist's requests, but was not pleased with his ridiculous spontaneous surprises. He was an incredible photographer who had shot her many times before. I assumed she felt indebted to him due to their past collaborations. Everyone knew the plan except for the talent who owned the location. If they gave her a heads up before flying everyone out I wonder if she would have turned down that gig. The team wanted her to do it more than she wanted to be part of it.
We busted into her fairytale mansion cottage with tons of equipment. Her taxidermy decor creeped me out. Everyone on set spoke French and I didn’t know what was happening. Towards the end of the shoot I stopped giving a fuck which won all the French people over. Once I quit being a desperate try hard they gave me cigarettes and let me join their angsty emo artist clique. Kaia was a photographer who spoke French and smoked hella cigarettes. She would’ve fit in with that rich Parisian artist crew way better than me.
My French teacher in high school spent her twenties modeling in Paris. She had platinum blonde hair, tan skin, and gigantic boobs. She taught me how to properly drink wine and curse in French. Some people said that she used to be a bunny. She wore tiny denim shorts and rode a sexy motorcycle to work. I think she was the only teacher who got dress code violations. She inspired me to embrace different cultures and live a fun sexy fabulous life.
Back when I was modeling I worked with a pinup clothing brand regularly. I was warned that the owner brutally fired people and slammed them online for any minor mistakes. Over the years I heard many horror stories about the way she managed her employees and business. I still worked with her, because it wasn’t happening directly towards me. She hired Kaia and I to do some photoshoots for their site and everything was a fucking mess. It was so unorganized and unprofessional. I had to hunt down our paychecks after every fucking shoot.
Later on the owner reached out to us to do another photoshoot. I sent her a photography contract to make sure we would be getting paid for our work. She went fucking ballistic and talked mad shit about our business all over social media. Shortly after that her business went under. I don’t think she ever planned on paying us, which was why she freaked out over the photo contract. I should’ve known better after hearing so many bad stories about her from other people. We had some wonderful clients over the years, but the bitches made a bigger impact. Bad people teach good lessons.
I kept banking on other people appreciating my talents. It’s like I was always playing a role, even if I wasn’t acting. Fake for the sake of maintaining toxic relationships.
Kaia had a huge crush on our friend Levi. They hooked up back in college, but never dated. She was in love with him and he used her. It seemed like everyone knew about their history, except for her boyfriend Sawyer. Levi claimed he didn’t like Kaia back, even though his life revolved around hers.
Despite their strange dynamics we had a pretty solid friend group. At times we all lived and worked together. When Levi asked if he could move in with us and let his brother stay over I was stoked. They were some of my closest friends who I considered family. Plus I was sick of third wheeling Kaia and Sawyer all the time.
Kaia got pissed that I said it was fine by me if they moved in. She thought it was inappropriate to live with him considering their history, but she never spoke up for herself. It wasn’t my responsibility to speak on her behalf. I did that sometimes for our business, which was a bad habit in hindsight.
Instead of telling Levi that she didn’t want to live with him, she bitched about it to me, and all our other friends. Kaia kept stomping around while slamming doors and cabinets after he moved in. She even changed our wifi name from “The Shire” to “Minas Tirith.”
Levi cared about the planet and had a silly sense of humor. He was in touch with his inner child, which helped me bring out mine. Levi performed off key songs and raps that never rhymed, while the rest of us smoked weed and watched from the couch. His rap name was Lil Pee Pee.
Before we moved into that place we looked at a way better apartment, but Kaia didn’t want to live in it, because the previous tenants died in the unit. I was such a hardcore Atheist back then. The discount and epic views made it seem worth it! We’re all going to die somewhere somehow someday.
I shared a large bathroom with Levi. One day I got really mad at him for shaking the door handle while I was trying to take a shit. I was like “DUDE LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE AND GIVE ME SOME FUCKING PRIVACY!!!” He had no idea what I was yelling about. We later figured out that my cat Lando was trying to bust down the bathroom door.
Kaia overheard part of our conversation about the door handle mysterious rattling. She was afraid of ghost, so we decided to fuck with her. We both kept making up stories about weird things happening around the apartment.
One night Levi randomly placed a long piece of string over a light switch. He was talking to Kaia about the ghost when my cat pulled on the string, which turned off all the lights. My spooky black cat was the mastermind behind all the unearthly happenings. Kaia freaked out and truly believed that there was a ghost haunting our apartment.
I eventually told her that it was Lando and Levi, not a ghost. I thought Kaia would laugh it off, but she got angry at us for fucking with her like that.
One night Levi and I were dancing in the living room and our moves kept getting progressively sluttier. We grinded up on eachother like horny freak dancing middle schoolers, which led to us having sex. We could’ve been each other's dirty little secrets, but we were both raised Catholic, and felt the need to confess our sins.
Kaia was pissed. She thought I was selfish for getting with someone she had feelings for, but I thought she was selfish for trying to keep people who like each other apart. Especially since we were single and she was in a serious relationship with somebody else!
Levi and I tried dating, but our friends treated us like monsters. They kept ridiculing us for having feelings for eachother. Kaia said she would get over it eventually, but that never happened. She couldn’t trust me or look at me the same way after that.
Levi’s perfectionism was his best and worst quality. It made him talented, but he lacked confidence, which caused him to judge mine. He couldn’t believe that I had the audacity to be a performer. Probably because he would never have the balls to put himself out there like that. He would perform like a total dork in privacy amongst close friends, but there’s no way he would let anyone record him. Levi always projected his insecurities onto me, which led me to doubt myself. His lack mentality was super contagious, even though I preferred to dream big and aim high. The key to success is being delusional.
Kaia and I got our own places and Levi moved in with me for a little bit. He ended up breaking up with me to camp around the country with his tent and backpack. Levi chose being homeless on the streets over living with me. He planned on leaving to travel before we hooked up, which made things much more complicated.
Levi made it very clear that our relationship was one sided. He constantly critiqued my weight, skin, height, and voice. In hindsight he was mocking and bullying the shit out of me the entire time. It hurt to hear him tear apart my appearance, especially since I was already enduring that at my modeling gigs. Guess he wanted a flawless perfect girlfriend, even though he was an unemployed short borderline homeless loser. I don’t know what I saw in him.
He acted like a nice kind person towards the beginning but his true character eventually came out. Levi told me that I had too much sun damage. Then he called me a Dalmatian and advised me to never go outside again. He asked me if I ever played connect the dots with the imperfections on my skin. Then he called my fupa stomach pooch my “third boob.” After bullying the shit out of me he’d ask me where my smile went and accuse me of being depressed.
Throughout that shitty short term relationship Levi made so many comments about my height, weight, and finances. It obviously came from insecurities, cause homeboy was short, poor, and not in shape. He expected love, care, and support from everyone even though he brought nothing to the table. Such a taker, not a giver! Kaia and I paid for most of his bills and meals.
Levi sat me down and pointed out that I was showing signs of schizophrenia. I was so fucking offended, because I felt misunderstood, and thought he was attacking me. Turns out he was just the first of many people to call me out for showing signs of mental illnesses.
I wondered how we let such a shitty human into our homes and bodies? I had to completely reevaluate my circle, health, self worth, boundaries, morals, goals, and standards. I’d rather vibe alone than hang out with people who don’t respect me. That fucked up little fling was my canon event.
Who the fuck was he to treat me so poorly? How did I put up with that shit? Levi seemed kind towards the beginning, but ended up being such a shallow asshole. I hated how much I loved him and loved how much I hated him.
Sawyer ended up being the only one who was still nice to me, but he didn’t know the back story. He had no idea all that drama was going on. I felt so bad for lying to him for Kaia’s sake for years. I wish I got to tell him my side of the story in person over some strong cocktails.
When I first started living with Kaia I hated her boyfriend Sawyer. He was another homeless unemployed bum on our couch who contributed nothing. Kaia and I both desperately needed to raise our standards.
Sawyer ended up being the best person in that shitty friend group. He went from last place to first place in my books. I couldn’t help but feel bad for him after seeing Kaia and Levi’s secretive flirtatious relationship. It was so selfish of them to keep their secret just from him.
Before shit went down Kaia and I had a great bond. We lived together for four years in three different apartments around LA. At times I wondered if we had telepathy, because it felt like we could read each other's minds. She was such a funny, creative, inspiring, and generous person.
All our friends sided with Kaia. They shamed me for sleeping with Levi, even though we were both single. At one point they even started bets over if I would fuck him again. The whole ordeal was giving Easy A Scarlet Letter vibes. It’s safe to say that I got slut shamed out of our friend group.
Of course Levi was never shamed for what he did even though it was the same “crime.” There’s such a double standard when it comes to men and sex. I was shunned while he got taken in and appreciated. He was the hero and I was the whore. Everyone embraced him and shamed me, even though we were both guilty of doing the same fucking thing.
For years I tried to get Kaia to hang out, travel, or work with me again. She was unable to truly forgive me and move on. It’s kinda sad because we had so many great times together in the past.
Part of me wondered if I sabotaged our friendship subconsciously. It’s not like I intended to hurt her, but our business wasn’t working out, and I knew that I would have to move on to survive.
Around that same time I fell for “the love of her life.” I wonder if I inadvertently derailed everything as a not so easy way out. Maybe Levi hooked up with me as a way out too. He wanted Kaia to stay in the friend zone. Fucking her best friend could be a pretty effortless horn dog escape.
Working with friends, living with friends, or falling for the same friends ruins friendships. Kaia and I went through all of those things at once. No wonder things didn’t work out.
Of course I was a part of the problem but wasn’t ready to take any blame. There’s no way I could own up to failure or being wrong even though that was usually the case. I was too crazy and crossfaded to notice or care about anyone else’s feelings.
Levi ended up moving in with Kaia’s family after he dumped me, which was a total mind fuck. He was such a fucking dick to me post breakup, but I didn’t really understand why.
He confronted me for being unwelcoming towards him and his brother, even though I had opened up our home to them multiple times. I knew that Kaia complained about them to our friends. Somehow that gossip circled back to Levi and he assumed it came from me. Kaia was the one who didn’t want to live with them, not me! I enjoyed their company before the shit hit the fan. That wasn’t the only time I took the fall for Kaia’s words or actions. We both needed to learn how to speak up for ourselves.
When it came to fight, flight, freeze, or fawn I FROZE. I couldn’t speak up for myself for some reason. There was too much emotional abuse and mind game bullshit going on in my life. I couldn’t handle it.
It seemed like Kaia would do anything to keep Levi and I apart. Her life was full of lies. Fake photos, fake hair, fake nails, fake followers, fake alibis. The grass was never greener in LA, it was fake! Luckily Kaia was a pretty bad liar, so most people saw right through her bullshit. I’m sure she trashed my name in fear of the truth coming out.
Why was I okay with my bestie roomie business partner being such a liar? I couldn’t trust her and she couldn’t trust me. It’s sad how things ended, but at least I won full custody of our kitty boy during the divorce.
Unfortunately that wasn’t the first time I chose a guy over a close friend. My childhood bestie May dated my friend Andi during high school. I hooked up with him before that, but never dated him, so it didn’t really bother me that they were together. The three of us were besties who hung out all the time! We loved throwing drunken bonfires on the beach together.
When May went off to college she joined a sorority cult and all her sisters became her new besties. She drunkenly fought with Andi until they eventually broke up.
One day May blew me off after I had already driven hours to go see her. I impulsively ended our long term friendship, because it felt super one sided. Then I drunkenly hooked up with Andi a few months after that.
I had such a fat crush on him over the years. Someone once told me that if you love someone, you should keep them as a friend, so they can be in your life longer. I eventually decided to go that route with him. I still consider him to be one of my best friends to this day.
My inability to maintain any sort of job, friendship, or relationship made me wonder if I was bipolar or borderline. My life was full of manic euphoric highs and depressing lows.
Some people told me that my blunt honesty was too much. Other people accused me of lying, acting, and over exaggerating. My friends and family would say things like “THAT DIDN’T HAPPEN!” Was I hallucinating or were they gaslighting me?
Andi and I kept in touch over the years. I missed my friendship with May, but didn’t want to tell her that I hooked up with Andi. Even though I knew that the truth would come out eventually.
May went to the same Catholic church as me back in the day. We sinned and rebelled in our own ways, but we both still appreciated the art of confession.
We both desperately wanted to be sexy bad girls after watching the movie THIRTEEN. I often think about the time we got in huge trouble at church for praying to “THE FATHER, THE SON, & THE HOLY DOUGHNUT.” In our defense the doughnuts after mass were fucking bomb.
Years went by and I finally reached out to May. We caught up over margs as if no time had passed. A psychic witch told her that she had already met her soulmate, who was someone that she got set up with in the past. Since May met Andi through me, she assumed that he was her soulmate.
The three of us had a beach bonfire for old times sake. It felt like May only wanted to hang out with me to get back with Andi. She showed up at the beach with a full face of makeup and her hair blown out. She even told me that she got sugared just in case. May kept throwing herself at Andi even though he had a serious girlfriend. Not like I should judge!
After a few drinks May confided in me. She had been diagnosed with a life threatening autoimmune disease. I could tell she was eager to settle down, because she didn’t know how much time she had left. That didn’t seem like the best time to tell her about my fling with Andi. We never hung out again after that, but she managed to fall in love with someone else. Now May and Andi are married to people who seem so fucking random to me. Whatever.
Kaia and her childhood BFF Fawn were attached at the hip for years. They even moved to Paris to go to school together. Fawn ended up hooking up with Kaia’s friend’s ex boyfriend while they were studying abroad.
Kaia ended her friendship with Fawn because she thought that she was selfish for sleeping within the friend group. I didn’t get what the big deal was. They were both single and liked each other! I never understood Kaia’s territorial over possessive instincts.
Fawn ended up dating that guy for years. They even moved to Thailand together! Kaia’s side of the story was stupid as fuck. Fawn was devastated over their dramatic friendship breakup. She spent years trying to mend their broken relationship, but Kaia mocked her messages and refused to respond. Fawn was outcasted from their friend group. Everyone unintentionally sided with Kaia, because she moved back to California. I guess we all felt closer to her, because there was less literal distance. Most of our friends missed Fawn, but we kept our feelings hidden from Kaia, because she made us pick a side.
Before I worked with Kaia she had another photography business with her friend Anna. They did everything together until all of a sudden it was over. Kaia said that Anna got arrested and owed her tons of money. I wondered if that was the full story. Kaia always had a codependent female bestie. Most of the people in our lives assumed that she was a closeted lesiban. Her female friendship breakups often resembled romantic breakups, plus her style of art often showcased the female form. Sometimes it takes one to know one.
A few of my girl friends were gay as fuck, but would never publically admit it. They didn’t want to upset their wealthy close minded parents, in fear they might cut them off financially.
We both had a history of dramatic friendship breakups, that were pretty gay in hindsight. We each played similar recurring roles in each other's recurring patterns. If you don’t learn the lessons you have to repeat the tests!
Even though I loved Kaia I never tried to resolve our friendship. I saw how shit went down during her past bestie breakups. She villainized her former friends, so I assumed she would do the same shit to me. I didn’t want to put myself through a bunch of predictable catty drama.
During one of our last friend group hangouts we all took the Harry Potter Sorting Hat Quiz and I got placed in Slytherin. I am very clever, resourceful, magical, blonde, and ambitious. Kaia judged my results, but she’s a fucking Scorpio. That’s like being a real life Slytherin!
My friend Jake noticed what I was going through. They asked me why I let people treat me like shit and talk down to me. Having somebody point out my lack of boundaries and self esteem encouraged me to make some much needed changes. Thank you Jake.
My health and goals became my new priority. There was no need to hold onto any one sided or toxic relationships. I cut most people out of my life.
Hollywood lost its sparkle. My personal dreams, morals, and values evolved. It was time to get the fuck out of LA.