I rememberthefindeshowthat I walkedinthehairlookforthatseason, I believe, wassomesortofbraid, almostlike a cornrow, liketearswerestreamingdownmyfacecauseforlike, twohourshewastryingtobraidmyhair, andthenmyagentwaslike, Oh, yeah, youshouldn't havecried.
When a photographercomesuptoyouandmovesyouaroundlikeyou're a mannequinpicksupyourarmandpositions, itmovesyourchin.
I findthatincrediblyinsulting, especiallyifyou'renude.
Justdon't touchme.
I think a lotofmalephotographersascendintheircareersbecausetheyarecharmingorgoodlooking.
Andso, likeenduringconversationwithumoftenisuncomfortablebecausethere's a levelofflirtationbutalsosortoflikediminishment.
Thioallofthesepeoplewho I equatedasauthorityfigures.
If I wastoldtodosomething, I didit.
I wantedtodo a goodjob.
Butthiscrazyopportunitythat I waspresentedwith, I wasshootingcatalog, andonedaytherewas a Therewas a newgirlthatcameinandshewasshootingand I wastryingtogettoknowher.
Andsoatlunchwewerechatting.
She'd askedme a question.
ShesaidMyagencyaskedmeif I wouldbewillingtogoon a dateortogooutwiththisguy.
I wenttosupportMons, andinthebeginningitwasactuallytotallyfine.
Thepictureslookedamazing.
However, atsomepointheaskedmeifitwasokayifwe'd movedtothebedroom, whichstillbeingthatif I didn't thinktoomuchoffuntilhewasontopofmewith a cameraandhishandstirofmybreastandallof a suddenitdawnedonmethat I kindofhadtogetaway.
I madeupsomesillyexcusethat I hadcastingsafterwardsin, uh, kindofhalfranout.