FFA

Today's Topic: If I Were a Fashion Runway Model...

Minx. Call me Minx. I have clawed myself into the revolving world of fashion. I have no contact with the outside world, no real friends to speak of, more men at my disposal than humanly attainable and my closet is infested with the latest Parisian masterpieces. Food and nutrients mean nothing to me, they are for the weak and the ugly. Dignity is mine because I am…a Fashion Runway Model.

Whether it is a hideous pair of trousers, an ostentatious strip of skirt, a flailing, oversized boa or merely bare threads of metallic leather clad to my loins, I marvel in my ability to confidently march the runway. I am a professional clothing navigator, a Tigress, a force to be reckoned with.

The thrill of the catwalk pulses in my veins, clearly visible beneath my pallid, skeletal frame. It surges through my brain virtually renders me senseless and graciously overruns the sharp, taut hunger pains that course through my body down to my third set of prosthetic ankles.

I am at the top of my game until the weight of my eye shadow compromises my equilibrium and into the sea of earthlings I plummet. Time and time again, history repeats itself and I am left to rise above the mass of hysterical spectators. But the shame and degradation are nothing to me because I AM…a Fashion Runway Model.