I quit modelling, here’s why I’m trying again

“Protecting my ego has meant starving it.”

Exactly 447 days ago, I wrote and published an essay about my experience in the modelling industry. I pulled no punches and spilled (potentially more than I should have) about the longing, anxiety and discomfort of being a model. Writing the piece was terrifying and therapeutic in equal measure.

At the time, I really thought I’d never model again. I’d gained weight after developing a chronic pain condition and being thrown into a suddenly sedentary lifestyle. I’d spent the preceding months learning to navigate life in a different body and to handle the remarks that came with it. And by writing that piece, I’d expelled a lot of the pent-up emotion I’d been clinging to for years. 

Looking for more thought-provoking reads? Try our Life section.

For the first time, I was envisioning a future for myself that had nothing to do with what I looked like and everything to do with my own merit. But if there’s one thing that’s certain, it’s that life is constantly changing. As of last month, I’m officially a model again.

People keep asking me why I’m returning to the scene of the crime. In truth, I’m not sure if I can fully articulate it. A combination of career uncertainty, the cost-of-living crisis and rose-coloured glasses certainly played a part. But beyond that, the reason becomes hazy. There was a piece of me that felt ashamed, like I ran away with my tail between my legs too soon. There was a piece of me that felt dissatisfied, like I had something left to prove.

But there was also a piece of me that realised it didn’t matter whether I was modelling or not – that era of my life was always going to be a part of my identity. I used to be ‘the model’ and then I became ‘the former model’. I have to don that identity when I write about toxic beauty standards, or when friends of friends ask me if they could be a model, or when someone Googles my name and that original essay is the first thing that pops up.    

I can’t pretend like that complicated part of my life never happened, but I can decide how it looks going forward. And that’s exactly what I plan to do.

Killing the ego, keeping the dream

When I was first scouted, I didn’t have a strong sense of self. I was still in that phase of adolescence when you feel untethered from childhood but haven’t yet found your place in the world. I felt lost and modelling seemed to be the antidote. 

In my original piece, I wrote: “I’d tried on lives like costumes. Some I had to squeeze into, while others ballooned around me. But the life of an international model – I would’ve shrunk or grown as much as I needed for that to be mine.” 

In hindsight, I think that idea greatly contributed to my unhappiness. I don’t blame myself for having it, though. I was encouraged to make my career my identity. What I wore, what I posted, the people I was seen with; all of it had to be perfectly curated to signal to those at the top of the industry that I belonged.  

And because of that, I didn’t have much that felt like mine. My only purpose was to please and my only desire was to be desired. Add in the constant cycle of rejection and criticism, and it’s no wonder I walked away with an ego that wasn’t just bruised but battered beyond recognition.

Ironically, protecting my ego this go-around has meant starving it of the external validation I used to seek. I need to feel like the stability of my entire world doesn’t hinge upon whether someone else thinks I’m thin enough or symmetrical enough or youthful enough. I need to know that I am enough because I am. 

Self-doubt still lingers in my head, but it speaks to me in a soft whisper rather than an all-consuming frenzy. I calm it not by denying the doubts but by reminding myself that the doubts don’t matter. The sharp pangs of (metaphorical) hunger that were once so present in my life don’t shape it anymore.

I’ve built a life full of people and interests that make my cup overflow. No modelling agent or casting director gave me the best things in my life; I did. And for every moment of happiness I hope I’ll be given as a model, I know I can create a million more myself if they never come.

So, why am I giving it another go? I guess because, one way or another, modelling will always be a part of who I am. For a long time, I’ve assumed that was a problem. But I think it’s time to rewrite the narrative around it.

For more on kicking the need for external validation, head here.