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"Too fat, too ugly, and certainly not made for the modeling world!" commented the modeling scouts. I was too fat, too ugly, and I wasn't modeling material at the time, but now I have made my self perfect. I have modified my eating habits, I have changed my physical self, and I have studied the art and intricacies of beauty and allurment. My life has been permenantly altered by those people's blunt comments, but for the better I believe.
226 lbs. That is the number that represented me at my heaviest. At that horid weight, I dared to go to an alternative modeling audition. Imbecilic idea. Walking into the audition hall, I noticed the numerous skinny, thin, and emaciated people auditioning as well. I already felt huge around my peers at high school, but that feeling of shame magnafied a thousand fold. Self contempt. I felt horribly obiese when chatting casually with the doll faced archaetypes. The sharp smell of hairspray mixed with the sweet scent of body spray filled the filtered air. Instead of candy wrapers and lost change littering the ground, makeup brushes and lost eyeliner caps took their stead.
Synthetic beauty is what a model is, but yet they are a seen as a standard of exellence to be imitated. How strange, no? Every model has to be slim and slender, sometimes sickeningly so. I stood no chance at that weight; I should have just left as soon as I walked in. The sight of those plastic mannequins made me so depressed, but I carried on to the audition, nonetheless. I was insulted, criticized, and broken in that small room. The beautifully fake scouts hissed and spat and laughed at me. It was then that I decided to become their dream; thin, beautiful. My solution; Anorexia Nervosa and a unorthodox makeover.
The image of the scouts with their weaves and their makeup was all I could think about; their comments were burned into my memory...tormenting me. Those sharp words insulted me every minute I would wake.

"Lose about half your weight, then come and try again"

"Get out!"

Food looks like a beautiful poison to me now. I lived off of pretzels and water; a little bit of food on Christmas, vitamins to stay alive. The feeling of hunger was a sin, and eating was giving into sweet temptation.
My weight plummeted; it practically fell off. I had finally lost weight enough to model. Following my solving the weight issue, I though about my plain hair and face. Ugly and distorted is what come to mind when looking in the mirror.

"Don't make me laugh"
I remembered that at all times.
My physique and my face were a joke.

Eyeshadow and eyeliner. Compact and lip gloss. Tools of beauty for the beautiful people. I wore the eyeshadow, applied the eyeliner, pressed the compact, and glided on the sweet smelling lip gloss. I was shiny and glittery. I smelled like an angel. My hair was cut into outrageous shapes that few would wear. I held it high with hairspray and pasty white hair glue. I was beautiful then; slim, alluring, and intimidating.

"You need to get a different body because this one isn't working."
one of the scouts snicked.
"I'll show them"
I thought.
"They will not be able to resist the new me."

Everything was changed; fat to thin, ugly to beautiful, doddering to struting, no smell to angel scented. I have completed my journey to becoming one of the beautiful people.
I was changed completely by those bitches. The annual alternative modeling auditions were set to take place on a Monday at 7:00 pm. I auditioned, and I got the recognition I deserved. I was a Starr. I was everything. I had everything, but I couldn't see that I wasn't the man who got in; I...was gone; those modeling scouts destroyed me...

Brandon Sandoval is still here,
but Myou Myaku is also here...
in my mind.

Someone else entirely.

Myou (my core) in a nut shell:

I am a gay boy who loves to dress in girls apparal. Not transexualism, Visual Kei. Don't like it? Isn't your fancy? I could care less. I am not here to please your trendy needs and wants; instead, I am here to break trends and barriers here in this cliche world. I want nothing more than to get want I can from you, use you, and then, once I am done with you, your gone. I am intelligent and unintelligent, Attractive and unattractive, original and cliche, it depends on your point of view. I pretend to be someone I am not but yet I am what I am not. Interesting.

Brandon (my mask) in a nut shell:

I am a gay boy who loves to dress stylishly. I love going out and having a good time. I love friends, and people and family! I love to go to shows, shop at Hottopic, and listen to Jrock and dance. I love talking to people and sharing with them. I will talk to anybody, really. I think that I am a pretty smart person, but I don't really think I am attractive, but then again...who does? Talk to me, you won't regret it.

Think about this...

Which one am I to you?

Brandon or Myou?

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