That time I was in Glamour

There are very few things I haven’t imagined myself doing at one time or another. When I was very young, I wanted to be either an archaeologist (inspired, of course, by too many viewings of Indiana Jones) or a professional athlete. I briefly considered being a lawyer, a librarian, a designer, a teacher, a lifelong scholar, a zoologist, and a dozen other things that don’t immediately come to mind besides. I never, at any point, considered modeling. It’s not a question of self-image or an inability to dream big. That world simply runs contrary to my values, strengths, and interests.

If the people who know me were asked to make a list of things I would never do, appearing in a fashion magazine would likely be at the top of the list. Or, given just how unlikely it is, it might not have even made it on the list. The idea truly is that absurd.

In July of 2014 I purchased a Notorious RBG tank top and sweater from Look Human and Colin, at my request, took some photos of me wearing them for a blog post.

At the time I was incredibly frustrated with the recent Supreme Court decision of Burwell v. Hobby Lobby and though I try to avoid a surplus of political rants on this blog–mostly because it’s either preaching to the choir or activating the trolls and neither seems profitable–there are times when silence just feels like too much to ask. This is what I wrote at the time:

“No matter how many bad decisions the Supreme Court makes, I’ll still be here, voting for presidents who choose justices like the Great Notorious R.B.G.; calling out racism, misogyny, and homophobia wherever I see it; and rocking these awesome t-shirts.”

Then, about a year later Colin received an email from a photographer for Glamour who wanted to run one of the photos in the magazine, something about a piece regarding Ruth Bader Ginsburg’s ability to capture young women’s imaginations. He told them to go ahead and use it, signed the necessary waiver, and we both made a mental note to pick up a September issue of Glamour but didn’t otherwise think too much about it. The only thing that seemed more ludicrous than me appearing in an issue of Glamour, was me appearing in an issue of Glamour for being a feminist–feminism being the reason I don’t generally pick up that type of magazine.

September 1 came and went and we didn’t pick up a copy–a combination of the fact that we were preoccupied with moving and were somehow confused about when the issue would be released. And then Colin received an email with a copy of the spread that ran. Lo and behold, there I was. It’s part of a collage, and unless you’ve already seen the photo you’d never know it was me, but nonetheless, there I am.

I think at a different time in my life this would be a bigger deal–funnier somehow, or stranger. But the shock of having bought a house and the nuances of learning to care for it take up too much space in my mind for this to make any kind of significant impression beyond “huh … that’s weird.”

But still, it totally is, right?