When I was a tween I realized I wanted to be an actress. I loved to be on stage and to perform. I…read moreread everything I could on how to make it in Hollywood. I was in Texas so my options were fairly limited since I wasn't looking to rope any cattle or sang with a twang, but I was able to find a modeling and talent agency nearby. I begged my mother to take me there and we went, me armed with my short resume, a lot of moxie and excitement. We were seen by a middle-aged, frumpy man who took one look at me and told my mother that I wasn't model material: I was too dark and should consider other options. I was devastated and I never forgot that jackhole, crusher of tween girl dreams. It took me a while to recover from that. I wish I was cognizant of the art of voodoo at that time, 'cause that mothereffer would have had all kinds of pains in his nether regions.
When I won a gift certificate for a photo session with Boudoir Rouge Photography, I was at once elated and nervous. This is my second chance! My headshots don't count, which, by the way, if anyone wants any I'll be happy to autograph one for you; I need to get rid of those things! I'll be sending them out as holiday cards until I'm beating knuckleheads upside their heads with my granny cane. Anyway, I had the same kind of mild anxiety I get when I'm afraid someone who thinks I'm all mature will find out I sometimes sing along to Miley Cyrus songs. I thought, "I'm going to have someone staring at my face for hours? What about what my sister said about my chin when we were in 6th grade?" "I don't know nothin' about being sexy. I try to pout and I look like a constipated blowfish." Thankfully, I had nothing to worry about.
From the moment I first spoke to Monica, the photographer and I believe, founder of BRP, on the phone, I knew I was in good hands. She has an extremely warm and soothing way about her. She assured me this shoot would be more housewife than ho, despite the fact that I'd only be covering my lady bits - if even that. After speaking with her, I was so excited to go shopping for sexified outfits for my shoot. In the weeks before my shoot I'd practice different poses, trying to find looks that worked for me. Be careful driving down the 405 licking your lips seductively in your rearview mirror; you might end up with a creepy, dentally-challenged dude in a beat-up truck as your biggest fan and stalker.
The day of the shoot, Monica arrived with her photographer-to-go kit at my home. While I worked on my makeup and nerves, she worked on transforming my bedroom. When I walked into my bedroom post boudoirification I was floored. Where the hell was I? It sure wasn't *my* bedroom. This was some other chick's sexy man-eating chambre. It was an amazing transformation! *I* wanted to be all up in that room being hot.
Before we began she mentioned to me that some of her clients like to drink a glass of wine before the shoot to relax. You ain't got to tell me twice! I can't drink wine anymore, so I said, screw it, I'm going for the vodka. At 10am, there I was doing shots of vodka. Hell yeah, I was feeling great then! Let's take this shit off and get it done!
At first, I was a little shy. I was also a little freaked about having my blinds open on my street-facing windows, me in undies, attempting to pose seductively. I was afraid one of my neighbors would walk by, get an eyeful and start thinking he needs to come by for a visit soon. Eww and no.
Monica is like the lingerie-whisperer. Within 20 minutes, I was so relaxed and calm, and it wasn't just the vodka warming it's way through my body. It was Monica, she made me feel beautiful, she made me feel like every pose I did put Cindy Crawford to shame, I was thinking I was hot shit ready to call up "Victoria Secret" and say, "Yo, you ain't met Ms. Keisha." Her direction was so simple to follow and allowed me to focus more on being comfortable in my skin. I felt like a star and I was living my tween dream. By the end of the session, I felt like a model. I was strutting around in my bra and panties and heels like "what?!" I was ready to shimmy down the street.
After the shoot, I was like a kid waiting for Christmas, so anxious to see my sneak preview. I'm not gonna lie, when I saw the sneak peek of my photos I thought I was the business. I sent some of the photos to my sister and she said, "Hello Keisha Kardashian" which I *think* was a compliment. The 8 x 10 and small flip book I later ordered were beautifully packaged with care. Now I have memorialized for all of time my youth and perkiness and I can show my grandkids and say, "Look what granny used to have!"
Nothing would give me more pleasure than to send a copy of these photos to that frumpy asshole at the talent agency, show him what Keisha grew up to be. I'd include a note that said, "How ya like *these* apples?"
