Runway walker/bird shoo-er

Last night I was walking around The District in Green Valley Ranch in search of the perfect Mother's Day present and Mother's Day card for the perfect mother and I'm like semi-pissed off because every year I seem to get her something from Coldwater Creek or Talbot's or Chico's and there I was heading for those exact stores again this year and what the hell is wrong with me that I can't be more imaginative like my sister Lori who got her the most awesome present on earth but I can't tell you what it is because Mom reads this blog and I can't ruin the surprise.

Anyway, I'm on a mission and am probably sporting one of those determined faces that you hope nobody takes a picture of because in real life you're much prettier than that, and out of nowhere a young security guard, probably in his 20's but I can't tell because he's b-l-a-c-k and he was probably actually about 60 because you know black people age much better than us white folk. 

That's not racist, it's complimentary.

Anyway, he says to me, "You walk like a model.  You know that, right?" and in a nanosecond my determined face morphed into a pretty version of my face and I was all sweet and said, "Oh, thank-kwew!" like some coy Southern belle instead of the brash  Yankee that I am and then I was thinking, "Yeah, people always comment on my walk, and I know I have a certain strut, probably because of years of ballet and yoga" but my thoughts were interrupted when I noticed a bunch of filthy pigeons on the sidewalk ahead of me, which sent me into my "other" walk, which is stamping my feet while jiggling my keys and clearing my throat so all the goddamn birds fly away before I near them and that's the walk I hope the security guy didn't see.

Anyway, I probably should come clean and tell you that I am, in fact, a model and that I actually Photoshop-ed my friend Adrian's head onto my body in that picture I posted on Tuesday because I've always wondered what I would look like with long, thick, curly hair.

And now I know.