Special Edition: A Bus Story

To celebrate the new post on PLFM, I am going to share one of my more traumatizing bus stories.

This is the only day I have ever worn regular shorts: normal khaki shorts, paired with a regular skinny t-shirt; nothing special. Chris and I were on the 761 to UCLA, sleeping on each other's shoulders. Except I was only "sleeping", and still had enough of my eyes open to see what was in front of me. A skeevy old man wearing a weird looking hat whom Chris and I had seen around before inched into the empty seats across from us and took out his cell phone.

Then he took a picture of me.

I immediatley "woke up", and asked, "Sir, did you just take a picture of me?". The man said nothing and retreated. Chris immediatley offers to go *talk* to him but I hiss to do nothing, that it is ok, precisely because it is so very not ok, and I'm afraid that if I confront the man I'll scream and get physical. I felt so violated and dirty. Chris pointed out the man's prison tattoos.

I don't want to know what he does with that picture.

When people ask me why I don't want to modeling, this is a story that I tell them. Besides my other qualms, I would be handing these people my picture. All the creeps, all the weirdos, all the other questionable people of the world could do whatever they wanted with my image.

My other qualm is that models are usually simply being used to sell something.

I, and every other girl, have many more of these stories.