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Ever Considered Modeling? A Scam Story
Ever Considered Modeling? A Scam Story
Ever Considered Modeling? A Scam Story
Ebook43 pages41 minutes

Ever Considered Modeling? A Scam Story

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Convinced by the praise she received from family and strangers, a young woman decides to attend model castings to test her luck. One of them leads to what she believes could be her big break, but what she encounters instead is a fraudulent scheme. This a story of deception, crushed dreams, shameless crooks -- and a lesson to be learned.

LanguageEnglish
PublisherM.P. Capellan
Release dateOct 2, 2012
ISBN9781301668502
Ever Considered Modeling? A Scam Story
Author

M.P. Capellan

A linguist, illustrative storyteller, and a passionate human rights advocate, M.P. Capellán fell in love with words at a very young age. In addition to writing, she loves arts and crafts, reading about world history, traveling, and dancing.Her writing style is undefined, but for the most part she writes short contemporary romance stories, poetry, and nonfiction. Visit her online at www.marciacapellan.com to learn more about her and all her projects.

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    Book preview

    Ever Considered Modeling? A Scam Story - M.P. Capellan

    EVER CONSIDERED MODELING?

    A Scam Story

    By

    M.P. Capellán

    ***

    Copyright © 2015 M.P Capellán

    All Rights Reserved. This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be reproduced in any form. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to the author’s page and purchase a copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

    ***

    You own everything that happened to you. Tell your stories. If people wanted you to write warmly about them, they should have behaved better.

    ―Anne Lamott

    ***

    Author’s Note

    Thank you, dear reader, for stopping by. The events you are about to read happened to me in real life. I want to share this short story with all of you who have ever been robbed of a dream, or some cash. Some names have been changed and dates rearranged so that the nice, real characters don’t freak out.

    ***

    Lights, camera, action! I strut forward, right foot first. My left follows, and suddenly I’m taking long coordinated strides across the floor. Hips swing from side to side in a coquettish way. Right, left, right, left... My shoulders are relaxed and my back is straight as a ruler. My lips are slightly parted into a grin. Eyes fixed on the green coffee shop logo in the short distance ahead, now that my vintage shades turned into a pair of horse blinders. I can’t see them, but I can sense the impatient multitude, gazing at me. I gain momentum and keep moving. Someone else joins me on the walk, maybe another girl, but I own the spotlight. This is my moment.

    Twenty seconds later, I make it to the other side and, as I feel the pavement under my nude summer wedges, my reverie is over.

    You know, I always feel like a model when I cross streets like these, said Kay, my thirteen-year-old niece. We had just crossed the busy intersection of Varick and Spring Streets in New York City.

    That’s funny, I said, holding back the excitement of knowing we had so much in common. What I wanted to say was, "Really? Me, too!" But the protective auntie in me didn’t want Kay to get too hopeful about modeling. I would’ve hated for her to go through the same pain.

    It was true—crossing any big street with a jam of traffic did that to me. It happened so often that at one point, I was convinced I’d be modeling for a living one day. The story of how I started daydreaming about being a fashion model took me by surprise, considering I was utterly shy and antisocial.

    All the way through middle school, teachers teased me about never smiling. I was an awkward child. In fact, too shy to ever make it in showbiz. Everything changed sometime in my mid-teen years when I started to feel more comfortable in my skin. I know because it’s impossible to forget the precise moment you start making your way out of your shell.

    I managed a dance troupe at the time. There were six of us—three girls and three boys,

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