Dance, nails. dance.

I have no sense when it comes to money-making opportunities. Correction: I obviously would never demean myself, strip, dance, etc., but if a man asked me to move an elephant for him across the Triborough Bridge for money I would probably do it (assuming I had nothing else going on and that I already got my workout in for the day).

My point is that I consider the wackiest things, which I attribute to boredom and my incessant need to feel that I am “doing” something (even if the thing I am “doing” is ridiculous).

This brings me to today. A friend of mine (who happens to be a designer) reminded me how much fit models make. Depending on the designer, it can be anywhere from $75 an hour on up to just stand there and be a mannequin for the patternmakers (and I can’t think of a better way to put my two degrees to work than this).

So with my interest piqued I went in for a fitting today for a well-known urban juniors brand. The deal: $75 an hour, anywhere from two to eight hours a week and respectable enough ( it is still within the fashion umbrella.)

Well after going into the showroom today and being measured by a very sweet girl (who incidentally asked for my comp card, I laughed) she looked up at me with apologetic blue eyes and said, “I don’t think your butt is big enough”.

If I had a dollar for everytime I heard that.