This evening I went back to the studio and sorted through more than 100 photos to find the baker's dozen I'd take home.
Many were easy to delete: a handful highlighted my lazy eye; plenty were awkward or out of focus; some were a little too sexy for my prim sensibilities; in a few the light hit my skin so I looked like Crater Face from Grease; and in a whole heap I looked really nervous. I made myself nervous again just looking at them. So long nascent modeling career.
Still, it took an hour and a half to find the photos I wanted (poor, poor James). And I wound up paying an extra $390NT for a 13th (only 12 were included in the package).
My package included a novel-sized photo book. The sales lady tried to trick me into upgrading to a coffee- table-sized book, like the kind they sell at museum stores.
She acted so surprised when I declined her "special offer." Oh, she was good. She could tell I was mighty tempted to supersize myself.
Saleslady: "Ni bu yao? Zhende ma?!" (You dont want it? Really?!)
Me: "Wo de qian bu gou!" ("I don't have enough money," much more fun to say in Chinese).
My practicality, and sense of shame, won the day. I really don't need to haul a coffee table book across the Pacific. Also, the fact I already dropped more money than I meant to ($390 extra picture, $500NT stupid face cream) helped steel me against her beguiling smile and uniform skirt suit.
Besides, I thought, if I got a coffee table book I wouldn't be able to carry it everywhere I go. Or I'd at least have to buy a bigger purse (joke).
I'm pleased with the photos I picked. They're pretty zany. I have a page of proofs and when I look at them I think they look like photos taken in Asia. I like that.
In two weeks I'll go back to pick up my small book of photos and the CD.
Who needs a coffee table book when there's the internet?