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Pictured, my glorious thighs breaking my shorts. Also, the fashion show did not tag the photographers so unfortunately I don't know who to credit for this shot. Apologies!

Friday night: I show up, the ballroom where we're supposed to be fitting is double booked of course, so that means I'll be stripping down into my thong in a barely air conditioned, jam packed hotel room; in front of men, women and an annoyed designer who isn't sure why I can't shove my sweaty butt into her bodycon dress.

Luckily (and most of the time unluckily), I'm in between sizes, so I fit into both the straight size AND the plus size clothes. I get to wear both? WHAT? OPTIONS?! This never happens! And I made new friends. They're fancy plus models. Almost all of them have representation. And they brought suitcases. And eyeshadow. And attitude. I love them.

Saturday: Call time is 10 AM. After the last debacle I decide to gamble and sleep in till a whopping 8 AM (which is early for a Saturday people!) and show up at 10:30. This proves to be a wise decision, as no one is there yet (of course). I'm one of the first people to go into hair and makeup. Which is awesome, because it makes me feel like a diva, and also not so incredible, because it's summer and I know that by the time the show starts ( in 7 hours) I'm going to have sweat most of it off.

I start to make friends. There's a lotttt of sitting around. Not a lot of eating, and of course, we're hungry after we've all been up for 7-9 hours already (some girls strolled in 3 hours late... I hope to be someone that can pull that off soon). So what do the plus models do while the other models are outside chain smoking? We form a band of beautiful, thick ladies who are going to get some protein and vodka in our lives. IMMEDIATELY.

Now before you get upset about us drinking on the job. Ask yourself this, is it a job if you're not getting paid? Nothing wrong with a couple drinks with new friends when you have 8 gratuitous hours to kill, in my opinion. Vodka also helps with a little thing called CONFIDENCE! And before you get all high and mighty about it affecting my ability to walk in heels, ask yourself a second question: How much do two cocktails affect a plus size model vs a size 0 who hasn't eaten for 16 hours? VERY LITTLE. We were probably still legal to drive. So shh.

We venture out into the hot, humid abyss that is Manhattan in the summer and find a liquor store. But alas, the liquor store does not sell mixers (unless you count sparkling wine, which I might if you were convincing or we had to go to a toddler's birthday party). So off to the deli we go: for much needed snacks and juices!

As I glanced into the crowded midtown street and back to the ever growing line for the restroom, I had a choice: chug the equivalent of 32oz of juice we bought (speaking of bodycon dresses...), or ask the man behind the counter to pour it out for us and share a shot. I chose the latter. We mixed the rest in the store. A park avenue princess judged us. We survived.

The next few hours were considerably more enjoyable than the first few; we laughed, we shared "juice", we took selfies, we charged our phones. And then it was time for....THE HEADDRESS.

I knew I was wearing nothing but underwear, a coat, and this amazing, incredible headdress by a designer whose name rhymes with mine: Sierra Wonderlynd. I had briefly had the chance to try it on, but I had not yet gotten the chance to walk in it.

Let me repeat that. We were now out of rehearsal time, and I HAD NOT GOTTEN A CHANCE TO WALK DOWN THE 90 FOOT RUNWAY IN IT. And you ask yourself why I drink.

So what did I do? I not so politely asked people to move out of my way in the tiny area we were quarantined in behind the stage, and paced back in forth in the 3 and a half feet that

I had. And you know what? It went JUST FINE. Added bonus? The incredibly tight chin strap made A HUGE impact on my jowls! My profile on stage was BANGING KIDS. SIMPLY BANGING.

My profile did not look quite so amazing for the other looks, but I was really excited to get to walk 5 times. Because of my size luck in this particular show, I got to walk a bit more than most of the other models. We all strutted up and down that runway (I continued to strut even when my crocheted pant look was paired with a RANDOM RELIGIOUS BALLAD THAT STARTED HALF WAY THROUGH MY WALK WITH ABSOLUTELY NO BEAT TO IT AT ALL) for a few hours, watched a couple of our items get stolen, made new friends, and then went out for fried pickles. So all in all? A success.

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