So I was taking pictures of a ’round the way escort the other day. And when I use that expression, I mean a regular neighborhood girl with sass and attitude. This particular individual boasted more than her share of physical blessings – but wasn’t model perfect. Legs a little skinny…belly not quite ripped…but a big, natural chest and a phat booty she continued to twerk in the mirror to get herself psyched up for the shoot. All things considered on the “go or no” continuum, she was a definite “go” in my book. At least physically.
Unfortunately, her personality was a little lacking. Which is to say, she was a major diva/pain-in-the-ass. Her dress wasn’t right…her nails weren’t right…the time of the month wasn’t right. You get the idea. All of this phased me not until out came the deal breaker word: the boyfriend.
Look! I’m not your trick so I don’t care about your boyfriend – or whether you have one or not. It’s my job to make you arch your back, throw your shoulders back, hold in your belly – and make you look natural all the while. “I’ll shave a burger or two off your stomach when I get home. Just emote!” is what goes unsaid.
But here’s the thing that gets me: Why would you want to tell anybody that you have a boyfriend while you’re sleeping with paying customers? Do you think that makes you look like a woman who’s in control of her life? Let me give you a hint: Your selling ass for a living defines that relationship as dysfunctional. The very word says that your man doesn’t take care of you. Or if he knows what you’re doing…he doesn’t care about you. It certainly doesn’t say “I have a good man who looks out for me and provides in every way.”
It’s like this: I don’t take photos of girls to get them in trouble. I can blur your face faster than a teenager can bust during his first experience. And of course…if your boyfriend is the type of guy who could find you in an escort ad, you might want to rethink that boyfriend status. Homey checking out ho’s on the Internet” Maybe you should go it on your own. Or at least not defer to his infidelity (not to mention your own).
Oh well! Not really my problem. The job got done and the pix were fine. The girl didn’t really wear me out like a bad taxi fare. But all I could think when I left was “Wow! Great body! Too bad her personality is so lacking. If she had a little more between the ears and less in her booty, maybe she wouldn’t be selling ass behind her boyfriend’s back.” But alas, this is a reality she will never recognize. As I’ve said before…her problems are hers…and mine are mine. Mine occupy me constantly.