I was in a fashion show. *I* was in a fashion show?

So I attempted to post this last week, but apparently my catwalk-strutting skills are far superior to my blog-posting skills. I posted on the eve of the Go Red Fashion Show, at which I was a “celebrity” model. Oh, dear…
Me? A celebrity model? Visions of Carrie Bradshaw, the girl-about-town-writer, danced in my head. In all, my ego felt inflated for approximately five minutes, until I crept into the hair/makeup room and saw actual local celebrities being fitted for gorgeous gowns, festooned with loaned jewelry and glamorous handbags. As for me? My hair was curled within an inch of its life by a perky stylist from Salon Red. My forest of chin zits were spackled away by a sympathetic makeup artist (“Eet is becauze you have-ah the women’s problems!” he told me in a thick accent), and then I was presented with the outfit I was supposed to model.

A tiny white jacket ringed with red fur cuffs, a red miniskirt, and a paisley shawl. Hmm.

The outfit, dear reader, did me no favors, as my mother might say. Bearing in mind this was for charity (or was I the charity case?), I gamely suited up and strutted my stuff on the runway. If I was going to wear red fur cuffs, I had to own it, right? The other women, many of them heart-disease survivors, looked absolutely amazing. The other models looked incredibly gorgeous, especially local news grand dame Natalie Jacobson, who weighs approx. three pounds. All in all, I had a lot of fun. I didn’t trip on the runway. I was tempted to throw one of my red fur cuffs into the audience, Gia-style, but held back. I am 5′1 and fierce. Work, supermodel, work!