What I learned when I tried Plus-Sized modeling

To be honest, I never really considered being a model, unless someone else pointed out my height to me and then told me I should be a model. Which I quickly would laugh off. That's just something people say to tall women, I would think.

Like a lot of girls my age, I rocked some serious self-esteem problems. After my knee surgery I started to gain weight, as I could no longer exercise to the extent I was when I was training for college volleyball.

Coaching helped me with some of these issues, and it helped make me feel like I had a tie to the volleyball community again. I came to see my excess weight as apart of me that I can work off when I got the all-clear to exercise again.

Toward the end of the season, one of my player's mothers asked to speak to me privately. She told me that she was starting up a clothing company and that she was looking for models to help her get started advertising.

Flattered, I asked about the company. Then I felt shot through the heart: A lingerie company. I was being asked to model nighties and nightgowns.

Woah.

'Alright, This won't fly' I thought. Curious though, I told her I would think about it, and being as young as I am, I wanted to talk to my parents. (at 18, I could have made this decision on my own, but to be honest I bounce almost everything off my parents anyway.)

Talking to my mother, she was for the idea, which I did not expect. Her reasoning was sound: Maybe if I have people do my hair and makeup and get a professional to take my picture I would feel better about myself.

"You're very pretty, other wise she wouldn't have asked you to model! She would only publish pictures that look good- you looking good makes her company look good!"

I could see my mother's logic- but like a true daddy's girl I still wanted my father's opinion.

"Someone does your makeup and your hair for free? Do it! If you don't feel comfortable don't wear it. This isn't a stranger, Em, you know her."

Much to my surprise, my dad didn't flinch much with the word lingerie either. He knew of my horrible body image and how down on myself I get when I look in the mirror. His view of the positive effects and my mother's sheer lack of dismay persuaded me to take my heart in my hands and jump.

So I became a lingerie model, well, for an hour or two.

Arming myself with as much information as I could, a pair of high heels and my mother at my side, I marched into a photo studio with a positive outlook.

The first thing I had to do was sign a piece of paper explaining I personally did not own any photos, that I could not take any pictures in the clothes I was modeling, and I would not release any information or photographs under penalty of law.

The contract was a stern reminder that this was a job, and although I knew the woman who was starting the company, I was certainly not just hanging out in underwear: This was serious.

The hair and makeup station was daunting. My mom and I watched as a woman in her mid-20's had her lips stained a deep crimson and her hair puffed up to a dizzying height. Obviously this was not her first time in the chair, she chatted at me, then pulled on her black heels and strutted into the dressing room to put on (well really, take off) her first outfit.

I sat in the chair and pulled out my ponytail just as the mastermind herself emerged. With a hug and a sip of her coffee she explained to the makeup artist that she liked my thick brows and dark eyes. "Natural, age-appropriate and maybe bring her cheekbones out enough to cut a man." she winked at me and instructed that my hair should be loose and curled before disappearing again to grab my 'sets'.

 I was chattered at and had my fist experience with fake lashes. The fun part about it was the makeup artist explained everything to me as she did it. But most importantly, she asked me if I wanted more glitter, darker lips, etc. This was to my comfort zone, and everyone involved at the shoot kept asking me if I was okay, or if I wanted to stop.

In total, I probably wore 10-15 different outfits, including some really comfy pajama tops I wish I could have left with. My mom was there the whole time, and afterwards she said she was surprised with how much I had agreed to wear, especially because I was told from the beginning to wear only what I was comfortable in.

"Some of those things you were wearing and smiling in Em? Baby girl, I don't think I've seen you feel that pretty in a long time."

It's true. I was totally comfortable with my wise cracking photographer who teased me about how my legs were longer than he was tall. It was really fun, and to be honest I left that day feeling the best I had in a long time.

The important thing I learned is that there are people around me that care about me, and they are all saying to look and see the beauty in myself. The same people are giving me advice and insights on life, and I don't doubt them, but when it comes to how I look I only listen to the little voices in my head that hate what they see.

Although sometimes it may seem easier to listen to your own inner demons and let them take control it's important to let yourself be loved. I'm working on taking praise and criticism both, and ignoring the internal negativity when it gets out of hand. Now I'm better about saying 'Thank you' to compliments and keeping the eye rolls and sass to a minimum.

Who knew I'd feel better about myself after I walked around in my underwear.