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Break Out of Your Shell

Break Out of Your Shell

The year I was Miss North Texas 1989 I had a job as a freeze model in a large department store.  It was a peculiar sales tactic, to act as a human mannequin modelling clothing, but the job provided a little extra income.  I don’t tend to put that job on my CV; it was a serious no-brainer; well, it did take a little work to hold still for minutes without scratching an itchy nose.  I would put on my chosen outfit, representative of a brand the store was trying to sell, and sit for an hour at a time on a platform in the place of an artificial model. On one occasion, I sat, my arms leaning back, as my hair draped over part of the stage.  A teenage boy and his friends saw my flaxen mane [ blonde at the time but now I have auburn hair] from behind.

‘Dudes, look at this mannequin’s hair.’ He proceeded to stroke the ends.  ‘Come feel this. It’s so soft.’

I sat as still as I could, for about 30 seconds, and then slowly turned my head.

‘Ahhh, she moved!  She moved!’

I started laughing, hard, and couldn’t stop.  The guys ran off, petrified, and I had to go take a break to get myself together again.   When you smash out of your fake shell, it scares people.

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