Just One Day as a Model? Yes, Please… But With Conditions😮‍💨

What’s a job you would like to do for just one day?

If I could do one job for just a day, just 24 hours, no contracts, no lifetime commitments, no “sell your soul to the fashion devil” type of vibe, I’d absolutely choose to be a model.

I know. You’re like, “You? Model? Wait… really?”

Yes, boo. Me.

Don’t act all shocked now. I’ve actually modelled before.

Culturally, respectfully, and gracefully…thank you very much.

I even placed first runner-up in a competition — twice.

That’s not a coincidence. That’s God telling me I was meant to stand in front of a camera with cheekbones and confidence.

There’s just something healing, almost divine, about sitting down and letting someone else worry about your hair.

About watching a makeup artist beat your face like it owes them rent.

About being zipped into a dress you would never buy with your own money,

but suddenly feel rich just by breathing in it.

It’s the magic of transformation, baby.

For one sweet day, you’re not stressed about rent, deadlines, or boiling okra soup.

You’re just… a walking Pinterest board.

But let’s not over-romanticize it.

I’ve seen the behind-the-scenes drama in those Netflix model reality shows.

They’ll tell you to give “sexy sad eyes” while wearing heels that feel like torture devices.

You’ll have to change outfits like 200 times and still smile like your wig isn’t suffocating your scalp.

One guy will yell “More chin, less teeth!” like I came with a manual.

And they’ll take 500 pictures, only to use ONE. Like, hello? What happened to the other 499?

And the part where you may have to strip down or “expose” for fashion?

Ermm… hard pass please.

I believe in modesty and dignity, thank you.

Let me model face cream, earrings, or lip gloss.

Let me pose in a blazer, boots, and Bible verses if necessary.

I’ll sell your brand, but not my body.

And before you ask, yes, I do believe in being confident in your skin,

but I also believe in boundaries, standards, and a little thing called the fear of God. (My body, His temple…🤌)

Besides, I have a cute face.

Not to brag though, but maybe I was born for face modelling.

Just my dentition alone deserves a feature in Colgate’s annual report.

So yes, I’d do it.

For one day.

Just to feel the lights, the clicks, the curated glam.

And then I’d go right back to my kitchen,

where jollof rice doesn’t judge me,

and nobody screams “Pose with more soul!”

But maybe—just maybe—

I’d keep a few of those pictures to remind myself:

I can still be soft and stunning, even after surviving storms.

Because every girl deserves to feel like a magazine cover,

Even if it’s just for a day.

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