Written by: Ella
Of course there are nudes. On January 29th, 2011 I wrote about “Dirty Pictures,” and if you happen to have been reading my work for that long, what you didn’t know was who the story was about… The reason I’m in a relationship with Lawrence is because he hasn’t changed since I met him and neither have I. The things I used to hate, are what I appreciate most about him, because at least he’s honestly himself. My boyfriend loves the photos, obviously. I send him as many inappropriate selfies as I can, whenever I can. It’s our thing… and my thing I don’t care who likes it, hates it, knows it or shows it. I’m happy with my body and secretly obsessed. My boyfriend loves that when he’s forced into an impromptu battle my photos blow girlfriends out of the water every time. It’s so much more acceptable for heavy set people to talk about loving themselves for who they are… or for anyone to talk about hating themselves and needing to diet. But don’t you dare be pretty and confident. That’s when you’re stuck up. “Conceited,” even.
The worst for me is that, I take pretty pictures, I write dope poetry, I spit mean rhymes and I have this degree that’s gotten me knee deep in a career that has me booking flights and looking for a place across the bridge with a view of the New York skyline… building websites like a true nerd and loving it. Don’t worry, it’s Friday, there’s a Blue Moon on my desk and I’m writing this post… They’re not the judgmental type, I love it here. Oh yea, and I love my boyfriend. I give him everything better than I’ve ever given it to anyone else because he actually deserves it. Be patient and I’ll tell you about him soon…
I received a Twitter DM, a phone call and a salty text message warning me of a “compromising” photo that had “Bitches be like… I’m a model” written across it. The only thing that upsets me is that no one will see the rest of the photos from that shoot. I’m mostly upset that I trusted the photographer’s judgment. “No more nude shoots. Until Playboy,” Lawrence & I agreed. We also agreed on the (two) nude shoots I did before I did them, the whipped creme being the last, before the meme came about. It’s not that I regret the photos I took… I’m disappointed with the image selected. There were great images, from that same shoot, taken on my phone. Lawrence isn’t on social media (thank God) so I had to explain to him that everything is shady because people think they’re connected to me, everyone has an opinion. The issue with my career plans for myself, is that the opinions half-matter. This was an opportunity to decide which half.
When you shoot with Impact Model Management, you’re not given any of the photos. Most other photo shoots I’ve done are a business or bargain (trading for the raw files or cash, which is my preference). As we dressed (or undressed) for this shoot, we were given a bunch of BS about the magazines the photographer and his “partner” have contact with. I’m not actually calling the contacts BS –I wouldn’t know. The idea is that they intend to sell the photos to whatever magazine they can. The guy went on about how they really try to get their girls paid work. Stew agreed that models shouldn’t shoot anything for free. If you shoot for free, it’s harder to get someone to actually pay you to do what you do for free. My understanding was this: I do a shoot, they distribute and I wait for a call where there would be dollar signs involved. I received a text inviting me to participate in another shoot. Like the “boss” America teaches me to be, I asked about compensation and never got a response back from the photographer, so I didn’t show. His partner did decide to hit me up on Instagram, to which I had to enlighten him on the theory of “Fuck you, pay me.”
I found out I was the star of a “#BitchesBeLike” Instagram meme on March 25th, because I find out everything. That’s what I told somebody’s boyfriend whom I had mistakenly involved myself with. He tried to show me the picture of myself to cover up his lack of maturity & to alleviate his being hurt by my complete dismissal. I’m sure he’s not used to being shut down, and so cold the way I’m known to do. But… I had already seen the photo. Actually, I had seen the exact same screenshot, of the exact same girl’s instagram page — with judgemental comments from women whose own pages where filled of photos of them literally spreading their ass cheeks, punctuated by the occasional photo of their child — but the photo of me was already deleted because I had already reported it. Meanwhile, here was this grown ass boy with a “nasty” photo of me covered in chocolate whipped cream and sprinkles saved in his phone. (Welcome to another session of #DoYouKnowWhereYourBoyfriendIs.) On March 26th, one day after I found out, somebody’s boyfriend texted me at 1:48am to ask me if it’s “too late to talk”. I responded the next day, and told him it sure was, to which he told me he doesn’t know why he keeps trying to “mend” things (late night). But we all know why. Reminds me of the time he came by at 2:28am, unannounced, to ask me about the website I could barely get him to review when I was building it. Unfortunately, I was too good for him; I always made sure he could come when he wanted to. Me, on the other hand, most find me impossible to satisfy. It’s amazing to see how people with no true consideration for you will try to “mend” things because they think you’ve forgotten how low, disrespectful and immature they are. Or maybe they think that because you never called them out on it, you don’t notice. I find it amazing how people pretend to be such good friends to you in front of your face, but they’re passing around the same information they claim to be saving you from.
Snitches, cowards and bitches — These are the only people who have no sense of loyalty and will give out your “sensitive” information while pretending to be concerned about you. But… my aim is definitely to become a topic of conversation. It got to a point where I had to debate “good v. bad publicity” with myself and address it accordingly because I am my own manager #SelfMade. The person who found the picture of me sent me a screenshot… and then other people sent me the same screenshot. I find that interesting. All it meant to me is that the picture hadn’t really spread, it had just circulated a particular crew. The real issue is that my “nasty” photo is saved in phones (including somebody’s boyfriend’s phone) and there are people who said not a word. What they fail to realize is that I will be on the wall of husbands’ mancaves worldwide. For that reason, I’ll continue shooting. And “modeling”. I’ll put full shoots up on PresidentElla.com when I have all my photos and they’re edited to my liking. This will be on my own schedule. Don’t like it? Yea you do. Say hello to the #NewMarilyn.
There are particular points in your life where people who have nothing to do with you will try to “rescue” you for two reasons: To try to elevate themselves in your seeming failure or just to be involved with you and be your “friend” (regardless of the fact that they actually suck at being your friend). When you are the kind of person who needs/looks for no one, those people will try to find ways to get into your life –they’re favorite is to help you when you’re “in trouble” so they can hold it over you later. That said, there are people who run to me to tell me what they’ve heard because I’ve never given them a reason not to. Regardless of my personal feelings about negligible people, I find it amazing that I’ve earned a little bit of respect. They just don’t know how to feel about how nasty I might be š Some feel like I should only do what they want me to do, some don’t want me to do anything that might make me a competitor, others only want me to do it if they benefit. Quite frankly, I’m tired of even considering caring what folks think, all for a page click and view. I’m also tired of people thinking they they own me: That I should fit into their boxes. That I should be there for them because they want me to be there, not because they’ve earned it. The worst is the folks who have opinions about me, but no true concern.
It’s always a struggle for me to speak about my sex life because I really do keep it in the sheets and out of the streets. I’m affectionate with my partner, and only my partner. I find it childish to hold back. Barring. Unfulfilling. I don’t really talk about anything. I’m a woman of action, if you know me, you already know. I know that I have younger family members. I also know that there’s a particular readership that makes its way to this page because of the beautiful and modest Hani Hulu. But truthfully, the reason I wanted someone like Hani on our team is because I’m not her. I find it to be a great strength that she flaunts her religion so fabulously… but that’s not me. It’s not the weakness in my religion that causes me to go “astray”, it’s the strength of my faith & knowing that footsteps in the sand blow away; no two paths are ever the same. It’s not that I can’t cover up. It’s not that I won’t cover up. It’s that this is my culture and I’m not afraid of bare skin. It’s because I find it an interesting point that (if you believe in the Catholic story) God created Adam and Eve “and they were both naked, the man and his wife, and were not ashamed (Genesis 2:25)” until something made them fear their most natural selves: a snake.
I suppose the reason I’m writing this is because… Ella did that, so hopefully you wont have to go through that… This is where I write what I learn & I learn from what I write. None of this is what I’m trying to push onto people. This is just my life & a place I’ve had part in creating where I can be free in my opinion, and you in yours. If you can learn from my “mistakes”, go ahead. But remember, that the criteria for both beauty and flaws are in the eye of the beholder. My decisions are mine & there are other plenty other paths you can take.
Best wishes,
Ella
EllaThought 