leon-50190362 @leon-50190362
The model agency's backroom was dimly lit and smelled of stale cigarettes. I sat on the white couch, my long, straight hair cascading down my back like a golden waterfall. My agent had just left me there, waiting for yet another audition to begin. The fluorescent lights above flickered as I fidgeted with my glittery handbag, feeling restless and anxious.
As I waited, I gazed around the dingy room, trying to distract myself from my growing unease. There were photographs of other models plastered on the walls, each one showcasing a different pose or expression. Some looked confident and beautiful, while others seemed troubled or even scared. The realization that this could be my life in just a few years sent a shiver down my spine.
The model agency was notorious for pushing young girls like me to conform to unrealistic standards of beauty. They'd tell us we needed to lose weight, wear less makeup, and smile more. I hated the way they made me feel – small, insignificant, and worthless unless I fit their narrow criteria for perfection. Yet, despite my reservations, I couldn't help but crave the validation and attention that came with being a model.
The sound of footsteps echoing down the hallway snapped me back to reality. My next audition was about to begin, and I had just enough time to freshen up before going in front of the camera once again. I took a deep breath, smoothing out my high-waisted mini skirt as I stood
