I'm a model.

I’ve always wanted to be a model = I’ve always wanted to be beautiful, attractive, sexy and photogenic.

I am sure there are women out there that look in the mirror and are happy with what they see but not me. There are brief moments when I see an attractive person in the reflection but those flashes are short. My sense of humor is stronger but who wants to have sex with a sense of humor?

Growing up with a huge forehead, puffy slanty eyes, thick eyeglasses, horse teeth and a flat face – being attractive did not seem possible. (See baby picture = grumpy business man baby) But one has to work with what one has. As an adult I can be content with my looks but secretly wish plastic surgery wasn’t painful. Even still, I hate how I look in most photos so it was a complete surprise when I received a call from a casting studio about a Barney’s New York Campaign… I went in and took polaroids convinced I wouldn’t get the job and wondering how the hell they received my info. (Later to find out my dear friend BJ Panda Bear had submitted my photos – that little sneak)

Flash forward a couple weeks later and I was on a 5 day shoot with the amazing BRUCE WEBER and about 50 other models and characters. LA STORIES was the premise, sprinkled with Angelenos from all walks of life: old to young, different hued hair, musicians, painters, choir church singers, the list goes on….

I can still tell you I look absolutely ugly in both photos (large jawline) but it was the experience that I’ll never forget. Holding the hand of Bruce Weber as I teetered down a grassy hill to take photos with two incredibly attractive young boys.

NOW who wants to have sex with me… because I am a model  – I have the photos to prove it.

Teenage years = zero photos.

I was the worst teenager ever. I moved out when I was sixteen but before that move, I tortured my parents. I hated my parents. I was an evil adolescent. The angry that could be found inside me was intense. My parents weren’t perfect but now in hindsight they weren’t THAT terrible. Not enough to merit bleach in makeup, scissors to favorite tops and diagrams of untraceable murder.

Being adopted was a huge issue. There were so many questions and every one of them were unanswered. From a young age I had constructed a list of what possibly could explain ME.

 

·      I was a princess and the dynasty had collapsed so they sent me over to parents who were tiresomely bossy and strict but would soon collect me and behead my parents for this insufficient treatment.

·      I was a Queen and the last of my dynasty so no one would ever find me and I was doomed to live a hour outside of Buffalo my entire life.

·      I was Sailor Moon.

·      I was a trained government killer waiting to be activated.

·      I was an actress in a 24 hour movie.

·      Unfortunately and fortunately I was wrong. Although, I secretly hope trained government killer waiting to be activated comes true soon.

The Beginning.

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This is the first photographic evidence that I was born. I am surprised my parents were excited to adopt me after seeing this picture. “Angry business man baby who may be cross eyed,” should be the caption. I was born in Incheon City, Korea and the woman pictured holding me is a “foster mother” who transported me from Korea to New York.  The handwritten paper was a name given to me while I awaited clearance to land on US soil.