La Poulette

Tastes like chicken.

Thursday, September 29, 2005

Strike a pose!

The journey of my childhood development was a meandering road full of weird and unrelated pit stops. My first love was Snoopy and I was convinced that my life depended on collecting any crap that came equipped with his image, be it a transparent plastic red sun visor (it was the 80's after all) or a cheap badge depicting Charlie Brown with a "Good grief!" thought bubble floating out of his head. By the time I hit the tender age of 11, poor Snoopy was ruthlessly pushed aside in favour of Madonna. I was smitten for the next two years and my parents looked on reluctantly as their sweet preteen daughter started to transform into a miniature trash slut of the Desperately Seeking Susan variety and - to add insult to injury - trample all over her atheist education with a collection of crucifixs around her neck. For all I cared, they could as well have been Swastikas. I bought my first make-up kit at Marks & Spencer and painted my lids indigo, which would invariably prompt my brother to ask who'd beaten me up (I'd just shoot him a scornful look - lord haveth mercy on the clueless ignoramus - while he'd hoot away in laughter). I hosted and attended sleepover parties where my friends and I would practice our dance moves to Lucky Star, shaving our legs and don face masks.
And then came the sophisticated age of 13, when my BFF B. from Belgium and I came to a mutual decision that it was time for our big break: MODELING. We were cute enough I guess, but small and skinny and decidedly unmodel like. Did that stop us? You bet our sweet preteen little asses it didn't! We collected pictures of a then bushy-browed Cindy Crawford and tried emulating her poses in front of the mirror. We spent hours scouring the yellow pages and calling up modeling agencies until we realised that we'd get nowhere without a "Book". Enter amateur photographer in the shape of my father. That Saturday we applied our make-up like pro's and struck sultry poses in front of the camera, as daddy dearest clicked away. In retrospect, I've got to admire the poor sod's patience, not to mention his self-control in maintaining a thoroughly serious - professional, B. and I agreed approvingly - straight-faced demeanor. The photos were presented in an elegant black folder and we painstakingly typed up our general statistics on the front page. I put my eye colour down as "hazel" and my hair as "chestnut" - way more glamorous sounding than boring old "brown", I noted in satisfaction.
Incredibly enough, a seedy little agency agreed to take us on and a few months later B. went on to do a minor appearance in a Fuji Film ad (much to my chagrin). But I liked to comfort myself that I almost got a lead role in a Johnson and Johnson advertisement (not tan enough, the agent finally dismissed me briskly as I held back my tears), which is, like, totally cooler anyway.
Things were just starting to take off when BFF B. had to move, a cause of much tearful good-byes and promises to write and keep in touch. We did; and for a grand total of 14 years no less, without ever setting eyes on each other in the meantime.
Today B. is a hugely successful (to my chagrin) senior consultant at a hot shot consulting agency in Amsterdam. But I like to comfort myself that I am a humble ************** in Brussels, which is, like, totally better paid anyway. We see each other every few week-ends and turns out she's still a skinny little thing, whereas I am a relatively tall, erm, normal sized thing. But were my dad to turn up equipped with his camera nowadays to suddenly interrupt one of our bar hopping excursions, I'm sure we'd both still be more than willing to flash him one MEAN little pose. VOGUE, bitch.


  • At 9/30/2005 08:03:00 PM, Blogger crni said…

    Keywords: Belgium, age of 13, amateur photographer in the shape of my father, sultry poses, sweet preteen little asses, flash him.

    Is there something you're trying to tell us?

  • At 10/01/2005 06:39:00 PM, Blogger Poulette said…

    No, just trying to generate some traffic to this site; desperate times, desperate measures.

  • At 10/02/2005 10:17:00 PM, Anonymous Nicolas said…

    The wittiness of this blog, and the quality of the comments posted by "those who bother to write because they enjoy La Poulette" should result (and not re_slut, RW) in massive traffic jam. Doing my best to promote the show, though...


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