Confession: I have always wanted to try modelling. I don't know why. I DON'T KNOW WHY! It's an evil industry that promotes poor self-esteem, but that has nothing to do with the glorious sensation of being the admired focus of the camera's eye. As most of you know, I am not an extrovert, or even particularly vain, so it's an unlikely fantasy. But after watching a few too many America's Next Top Models, my head full of Blow-Up-like visions of writhing around on the floor irresistibly while a photographer in a frenzy of inspiration yells, "Yeah! YEAH!", I signed myself up to the Aveda models' database. Aveda = hair salon, so I figured it wouldn't be humiliating all-over scrutiny, just hair scrutiny. Then I forgot about it.

Until today, when I got an e-mail saying they're having a model call next week! There will be catwalking involved! The thought of showing up to (and competing with!) what must surely be an orgy of toothpick-limbed 15-year-old girls and strutting divas has me both terrified and fascinated. I might also end up with a humiliating haircut, if I make it through to the final show. Yoiks! Do I have the reserves of femininity and self-confidence to get me through this? Should I even put them to the test?