No Take Five. Take Me Home.

DISCLAIMER: I did not sign up for this. Do I look like Sharon Leal to you? No, I don’t act. I took DRAMA 101 because I heard it was a gut.

A few months ago, I told you about my trip with Eliot to a New York modeling agency.  That mission was a FAIL, probably because my leggings were too tight. I’m almost sure the way my calf fat suckled when I sat stole Eliot’s chance at a H&M photo shoot. Oh, schnap.

So the other day I got a call from another agency. They had a client interested in Eliot’s photo. Cool.

All I needed to do was send in a picture of baby and mom together.

Say whaaaaaaa….?

I wanted to shout through the phone, “Didn’t you talk to your NYC colleagues? Check your sources, lady! I have calf fat!”

Instead, I sent the picture by close of business. Eliot looks smashing in the photo, but my front teeth look scarily flat, almost inverted.

Certain that I had yet ruined another chance for Eliot, I ate a bagel.

But then the unthinkable happened. I got a second call. They liked the picture and wanted us–as in US–to audition for a commercial.

I did what any responsible, carb-loving mother would do. I grabbed two slices of pizza and hit the road.

When we got there, they called us back to a room. “So, have you seen the storyboards?” The Guy asked.


“Okay, so the setting is we’re on an airplane. I’ll pretend to be someone, and you react to what I say as though you’re a passenger.”

I smile, my teeth now so flat they are against the roof of my mouth, like palate expanders. I’m sure I have a ring of sweat and heat bumps from my cowl-neck sweater. Acting makes me schweaty. So here’s how the audition went down:

THE GUY AS A FLIGHT ATTENDANT: “Please settle into your cramped seats on the plane and prepare for a long flight…”

ME BEING A NON-ACTOR: Think African-American deer in headlights of Mac truck with a Confederate Flag bumper sticker on a highway in West Virginia. [Eliot follows my lead. She totally knows my stars and bars face.]

THE GUY AS A HEROIC FELLOW PASSENGER: “Now who wants to get off this plane and come with me on vacation? Come on, let’s go!”

ME ADAPTING LIKE A DEAD CHAMELEON: I smile like Roberto Boucher at the end of Bobby’s wedding in The Waterboy. I smile at the camera, then at Eliot, and we walk off the fake plane.

THE GUY says, “You struck a nice balance.” I think he means between Herman Cain and Bambi. I’m okay with this.

As we leave, I say, “Eliot, I love you, but you’re gonna have to start pulling your own weight. My Drama 101 is only gonna carry us so far.”

Then I stop and apologize. I look at her feet. Her tiny but pudgy feet cramped into some Old Navy faux-leather boots I bought in a rush to complete her faux-airplane look. They are one size too small. I’m hoping there is still time. That they haven’t already given her hammer toes.

Elie Mae wants you to see her in her boots.

Begging me to withdraw the boots from her feet.

Once I removed the boots, I got this:

Post-Boot Smile

It looks like I should leave the Roberto Boucher smiles to the one and only Elie Mae.

2 thoughts on “No Take Five. Take Me Home.

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