I'm going to share something here that I have told very few people outside of immediate family, mostly because I made some colossally stupid mistakes, and I am embarrassed, and here's the important thing, and I am not being dramatic when I say this. I AM LUCKY TO BE ALIVE! Around 30 years ago, I answered an ad posted in the Classifieds of the Richmond Newspaper to apply with a modeling agency who was looking for Plus Sized models. I was asked to send some full body pictures in different outfits, formal, daywear, sportswear, etc. At the time I was married, and my husband took the pictures, and I sent them in, and a woman contacted me for an interview. I was beyond thrilled! Me! a Model! I had the address, and I was going that afternoon. These were the days before cell phones. I had to get to the interview, and I did not have time to call my husband to tell him I was going. I was given the directions, and I headed out. NO ONE knew where I was going. I told No One. I followed all the directions, and they were leading me into an apartment complex. If you were watching this story as a movie, right now you'd be thinking this looks sketchy. My brain told me that too, but I overrode it, and told myself perhaps there was an office building behind the apartment complex, and I drove on. There wasn't. I pulled up to the address. It was an apartment. Movie audience you is thinking right now, she's not going in there, is she? Once again, my brain said, this isn't right, but I overrode that thought and got out of the car to look for the modeling agency sign on the door (as if that would legitimize the situation) There was no sign on the door. It was a regular metal apartment door. If you're waiting for me to turn around, get back in my car and leave, you'll be waiting a long time. I knocked on the door, and a man answered. As I looked in, I was hoping the apartment had been converted to an office. It wasn't. The dining room table was directly in front of me, and there were salt and pepper shakers on the table. There was also no one else in the apartment, specifically, no women. Ok, get ready to groan, Movie Audience You. I walked in , and he shut the door behind me. The first thing he offered was an explanation as to why I was in an apartment and not an office. They (the Agency) had found that office buildings were just not accommodating enough to do a successful photo shoot. The interview began. I was on the couch and he across from me on a chair. I was nervous. Remember what I said about our bodies screaming at us, but as the interview went on, I became more relaxed, and I told myself how silly I was being. This was a legitimate interview. He hadn't tried anything. He was asking the appropriate questions. Then he said they'd like to hire me. Wow! I'm going to be a model! Then he told me he just needed to get my measurements, and if I would step back into the bathroom and take my dress off because to get the most accurate measurements, they needed to be taken in my bra and underwear. He then walked out of the living room and back to the back of the apartment. Movie audience you is now yelling, GET OUT OF THERE! WHAT ARE YOU THINKING? My mind was telling me that too. I could have just gotten up and walked out the door. I didn't. I walked back to the bathroom and did exactly what he had asked me to do. I stood there in a Maidenform royal blue, bra and pantie set while a complete stranger took my measurements. When he was through, he asked me to get dressed and come out to the living room. As I closed the door and got re-dressed I felt sick to my stomach. I walked out to the living room. He was still in the back bedroom, and yes there was a bed in the bedroom. I yelled back toward the back of the apartment, "Do you have a phone I could use?" His reply, "Why, is someone waiting for you?" Me: "I need to pick my grandmother up from work." I called my grandmother to say I would be a little bit late. Before he came back up, I told him I needed to go. He asked, still from the back, if I wanted to finish the interview. I just repeated that I needed to go, and I left. The whole ride to my grandmother's office I could barely breathe. I felt stupid and ashamed and lucky and relieved all at once. It's that feeling you get when you're just about to cry, but you don't. They contacted me a couple times by phone to ask if I wanted to work for them. I declined. Here's the kicker. 2 years later I'm watching the news, and a picture comes up on the screen of "my interviewer" He had been arrested for taking indecent pictures of minors in his apartment. Anything could have happened to me that day. I could have been raped or killed, and no one would have known what happened or where I'd gone or if they would ever see me again. I could have vanished into thin air just like Hannah Graham. If we were all honest with ourselves, we all have a story like that. We've all ignored reason at one time or another about any kind of situation and later, we said, "Wow! I'm lucky to be alive!" Why did I share that incredibly embarrassing story of my extreme stupidity? Because I want everyone that reads this to learn to be smart and above all to take better care of ourselves and trust our inner thoughts and feelings. If you feel like it's wrong, It's Wrong! Don't find yourself in a situation you cannot get out of. Please don't be another story or headline on the news.
