Erstwhile Muse

Ego and the Bunny-ears

or <q>Does a naked man deliver <em>your</em > eggs?</q>

While visiting with my folks, and especially my nephew, was a pleasant way to spend the Easter weekend, discovering that all that wonderfully tasty food alongside my general lack of proper dietary considerations over the past couple weeks had put back a few of the pounds I had lost since Christmas was not. Needless to say I was a little bit self conscious going into work this morning.

A brief digression for those who don't know me personally—my current mode of monetary compensation entails me removing my clothing for relative strangers. For the moment at least I am working as a model at CCAD, usually in the freshman/sophomore figure drawing and painting classes.

Now this particular class was likely to be interesting anyways, as it was the second session of pose that had me straddling a pair of drawing benches wearing fuzzy white bunny ears. That's right, bunny ears. Add in some dramatic lighting from the floor and you have, on initial appearances, what looks like a prime example of where too much alcohol around the holidays can lead. Either that or the world's strangest poster for a production of Harvey ever seen.

I had already finished one session for this pose on Friday morning, so it wasn't the pose or it's accoutrements that would have me feeling uneasy in my own skin, something that doesn't happen easily. No it was the fact that I had decided to step on some damnable scale over the weekend and was obsessing. Luckily it was an early morning class, and I only had to be conscious enough to take and hold the pose for the first half-hour session. I could do my best to not think about it simply by not thinking about anything. This of course, was doomed to failure; in order to stop thinking during periods of inactivity I would have to stop breathing. What can I say, it's just my nature.

It was a pleasant surprise to get up during the first break and wander about the room to look over the students drawings; this was a figure drawing class doing toned paper charcoal works. Here, quite literally in black and white, was proof that I was being overly sensitive about a number spat forth at me by a machine.

Who would have thought that looking like some sort of depressed naked Easter Bunny could be good for one's ego?

Labels: work