//------------------------------//
// Chapter One - The Spotlight 
// Story: Fleur On The Runway 
// by rosebug 
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	“Congratulations Fleur,” my publicist said at our morning meeting over breakfast.  “Hoity Toity wants you to close his show during Fashion Week.”

There it was:  relief.

This was the job I had hoped to get ever since I started to work as a fashion model.  Hoity Toity was the most important designer in Equestria and most, if not all, serious models dreamed of being on his runway, let alone the star of his show.

After all, his opinion went a long way in the fashion industry.

Being chosen as the final model of the show was the biggest honor anypony in my career track could hope for.  The model who walks down the runway along with the designer at the end of the show always wears the most glamorous outfit from the new line.

Not to mention, Hoity Toity uses his Fashion Week show as a way to not only present his new collection, but also to showcase the face of said collection's campaign.

And this time it was going to be my career that blossomed thanks to his show.

It was a dream come true for the filly who grew up in a small town that may as well been called “Nowhere.”  Nothing was near it, nopony had ever heard of it, and absolutely nothing ever happened there.  For as long as I could remember, my only real dream in life had been to move somewhere more glamorous.  Somewhere I could feel like I was making something of myself instead of just going through the motions.

It felt like a far-fetched dream though, my dad's family had lived in this town for generations and I expected that I would too, but I always felt like I was cut from a different mold than everypony else in that town.  My whole life, I always felt like other ponies could see right through me and could tell all the flaws I so desperately tried to hide with just one look.

That was why I loved fashion.

It was a shining beacon of hope for a filly whose life seemed so gray and monotonous.

Whenever I opened up a fashion magazine, it seemed like everything and everypony in the industry seemed so colorful and full of life.  The models and designers seemed to live extraordinary lives filled with colorful clothes and confident smiles.  The models I saw poised in magazines seemed to exude so much confidence and beauty in the clothes they posed in that I thought there could be a bit left over for me, the filly from the middle of nowhere.

I wanted to be just like them.

I wanted ponies I have never met to look up to me and think of me as beautiful.  More than anything, I aimed for perfection.

So, as soon as I got the opportunity I moved to Manehattan to live my dream of becoming a model.  I was going to be just like the models I saw in my fashion magazines.

Getting started wasn't instantaneous.  Several times my agent spoke to me after go-sees and told me exactly why the designer didn't like me.  For some I was too short, sometimes I just didn't have the look they wanted, and for many I weighed too much.

But after my first Fashion Week, my career began to gain momentum.  A few important ponies who saw me walking down the runway liked me and booked me themselves and it spiraled from there, feeling like a whirlwind of opportunities that I thought would never slow down.

And it didn't.  Not exactly.

But Manehattan's taste in models shifted, and the fresh-faced models that were coming to the scene were more in style with the demands of the designers and photographers.  New personalities akin to Photo Finish's latest find, Fluttershy, were taking the scene by storm.

I could feel my success slipping away. 

One couldn't blame me for being worried.

“Yes, I am sure you are very happy, but this is an important job.  Probably the most important job of your career,” my agent reminded me.

I nodded along, taking a tiny bite of the fruit in front of me.  My publicist had a habit of going off on tangents, and after finally having the peace of mind that I had booked my dream job, I just wanted to relax.

“...and you look like you haven't exactly been pumping iron lately.  Which brings me to Hoity Toity's one teeny tiny suggestion.”

“Uh huh,” I responded, half paying attention.

“Hoity Toity wants you to lose five pounds before his show.  The dress is skin-tight and it will show any... errors in your figure.”

I looked up, trying not to look as surprised as I felt.  She said with such nonchalance that it seemed like she thought of it as something so minuscule, just an addition to my contract instead of a requirement.  Hoity Toity had the power to make-or-break anypony's fashion career if they didn't adhere to his standards and he wouldn't hesitate to terminate my contract even if it was minutes before the show began.

I have dieted to get and keep jobs before, ponies in the industry can be incredibly harsh especially towards newer models.

I learned that the hard way after my first photoshoot.

The mare who had worked on my make up before that first photoshoot didn't talk much, but she did put an inordinate amount of make-up on my face and made it a habit to ignore me even if I tried to make conversation with her which she often replied with a deep sigh and an eye-roll to the stallion working near her.

“Models, right?”  He chuckled in response.

I kept my mouth shut for the rest of the photoshoot.  A feat that turned out to be simple as nopony talked to me unless they were barking orders at me.

“Ew, Fleur, pick up your head a little!  You're holding it so low it looks like you have a double chin!”

“Move that leg!”

“Don't smile like that!”

The amount of criticism I got during my first shoot was staggering.  And, by the end of the shoot, I was ready to curl up in bed and cry, but I had to wait for my agent which meant that I had to stay and listen to a conversation that was being held between her, the designer, and the photographer on how I should stand, walk and hold myself in the future because only so much that can be fixed in post.

It seemed foreign to me that my agent and the designer could stand around me and speak about nothing but my body and my waistline without ever actually saying a word to me.

And yet, there I was, standing in front of a white backdrop with everypony staring at me, my eyes stinging from holding in the tears.

As they spoke I couldn't help, but look down at my body in shame as I wondered why I had ever thought that I could do this in the first place when I obviously didn't have the right look and I definitely didn't have the awe-inspiring confidence all the models I looked up to, had.

The day ended with the unanimous decision that I should lay off the hay fries, it would take less time manipulating the photos in the future.

After that day, embarrassed by the conversation I was present for, I cut all fast food out of my diet.  I hoped that by cutting those foods out I would never have to hear comments like that ever again, but even after that, I would still hear comments about my weight every now and then.

And every time, the comment would cut through me like a knife.

I know I'm not the only pony to face this, all models have.  It is an unspoken rule in the fashion industry that you do what you have to do to look the part.  If asked, you just say that you have a fast metabolism and are genetically blessed.  You are never under any circumstances to ever even hint that you may have to go through some extreme measures that many models have to take every once in a while.

Especially not to the media.  One mention of that to the presses, and you can kiss your career goodbye.

I suppose it's understandable.  Brands don't want their lines to be associated with any kind of controversy since it can hurt sales.  The job of the model is to help increase the sales while also giving the masses a look that ponies can aspire to.  And, while the rational side of me knows that it isn't personal, the rational part of me is always overclouded by the part of me that was scared and self-conscious.  So it always feels personal to me.

None more so than this time.

For the first time in years, I had the opportunity to spend part of my summer visiting my extended family in Prance.  Summer is usually a slow time for bookings since designers are trying to get their line ready to debut at the beginning of fall.  So, I jumped at the opportunity to join my parents on vacation for the first time in years.  And, of course, since food is an important part of visiting family, I was prompted to eat a little more than I would have otherwise.

When I returned to Manehattan, I hoped that nopony would notice that I hadn't stuck to my diet this summer, but apparently I was wrong.  If Hoity Toity noticed that I gained weight, then who else noticed?  What if other designers noticed?   How many jobs have I lost to the new mare in town?

I looked down at my plate which was still half covered in food, suddenly feeling self-conscious and pushed the remnants of my breakfast away, and mumbled under my breath that I was full.  My agent just smiled and motioned for the waitress to come and take our plates.



* * *



As soon as I returned to my apartment, I hightailed it to the bathroom, and planted myself in front of the mirror.  This summer had thrown me off my carefully planned out diet, I shouldn't have listened to my family this summer because now I was paying the price.

I stared at myself in disbelief at my reflection, I didn't realize I looked like that.  The mare in the mirror was bigger than I remember myself being, her pristine white coat barely seemed to have to stretch to cover the weight of her body.  I almost couldn't believe this was me.

How did I ever feel comfortable letting myself leave my apartment today?

The mare in the mirror seemed to laugh at my pain.

Oh sweetie. She sighed. Look at yourself, look at the fat hanging off you... it's disgusting, you're disgusting.

I cringed.  It hurt, but she was right, I was disgusting.

Lucky for you, I'm here to help, she cooed.  Her voice was soothing like a warm blanket surrounding me on a cold winter night, warm and inviting.  So, I believed her.