And somehow I'd managed to book a job with The Gap, doing runway work for their new spring/summer collection.
On the day of the show I found myself in a large room filled with at least two dozen handsome and fit men. Looking around, it was obvious that I was both the oldest and the heaviest person there.
The director of the show--yet another good-looking guy, with a man bun and an imperious air--told us all to line up by age and weight. Once we did, he explained how things were going to work.
"Those at the end of the line will model the swimwear," he said. Then he smiled. "I know that might make some of you turn green."
Each of us received our clothes for the show. At least mine were board shorts and not tiny trunks. Still, I wasn't comfortable. I couldn't figure out what concept they were going for. Why have the oldest and least fit of us model the swimwear? I wondered if this might be some kind of elaborate joke, a way to end the show with a big laugh. Or a ploy to gain more media coverage with what would surely be described as a "brave choice."
We went to individual dressing rooms, and while everyone else was changing I snuck out. I didn't say anything to anyone. I just left the building with my head down, hoping no one would recognize me. I went to an ice-skating show instead, relieved to be somewhere cold, where all of us had to be fully dressed.
Dream date: 04/08/2018