I’ve had some periodic trouble with my wrist and so recently returned to the orthopedist. He had me run through the symptoms; deciding it was similar to prior episodes he recommended the same course of treatment, telling me “you should be the poster boy for cortisone injection.”
Hmm… I’d never seriously considered a modelling career before but from what I’ve read this is how the beautiful people are discovered, randomly through such happenstance. So-And-So was behind the counter at the Dairy Queen; Such-And-Such was standing in line at the Motor Vehicle Bureau… In my case a licensed physician, someone who is board-certified in his ability to recognize the optimal condition of the human anatomy, indicated I was a paragon of photogenic excellence. Therefore I’ve decided to strike while my best years are still ahead of me.
While I don’t read the glossy magazines, only glancing at their covers while waiting to scan my instant oatmeal and frozen pizza through the checkout line, I am aware of a recent appreciation for male celebrities who display what’s referred to as a “dad bod.” I easily meet, if not exceed, that standard: flabby but not yet gone completely to seed; a soft roundness from which emanates a certain je ne sais quoi imparted through a casual approach to shaving and personal hygiene. Fashion is all about identifying trends in advance of widespread acceptance, as documented through their eventual appearance in a Target ad, so I think there’s some life yet to be rung out of this physical archetype.
I’ve also gleaned that in order to launch my new career I’ll need agency representation. I’m familiar with Ford, Elite and Wilhelmina but I think I need something more boutique-y. There’s a fellow who runs a Glamour Shots booth at the local mall who I’ve often seen critically assessing passers-by, staring at them intently before asking whether they’ve given any thought to becoming a model. I overhead him offer one such candidate a “private session.” I need to pick up a prescription at CVS anyway, so I think I’ll kill two birds with one stone and saunter past his set-up to see if he’s accepting new clientele.
I’m sure it’s easy for you to scoff at my dream and consider this a “vanity project” — but let me assure you that’s the farthest thing from the truth. Celebrity, when managed effectively, can be a springboard toward becoming a force for positive societal change. Josh Duhamel, Ian Somerhalder and Kellan Lutz are just three of many famous former male models I had never heard of before googling “famous former male models.” I’m reasonably certain, now that I see Wikipedia says these fellows appear in movies and on television, they are donating some of their newly-acquired fortunes to charity, if only for the tax break. Once I begin to appear on posters as a notable endorser of cortisone injection — striking a variety of pain-followed-by-relief poses in order bring to the attention of our youth-obsessed culture this effective treatment for conditions including arthritis, frozen shoulder and gout; displayed in the examination rooms of every orthopedist and neurologist along with that clinic in Florida where the teen who impersonated a doctor worked — fame will quickly follow, and after indulging in just a few modest self-congratulatory purchases I’ll associate myself with a worthy cause, hoping to become as well-known for my good works as my good looks. I want to be thought of as more than just another pudgy face.
I do hope the cortisone starts to kick in soon since before staging my audition catwalk past the food court I’d like to grab some lunch at Panda Express, and with my wrist being what it is I still can’t properly grip the chopsticks.