Veronica Torres

So. Here I am. Let's be real—I never wanted a portfolio. I never wanted to sell my look to whoever’s buying this week. But when you move out of your parents’ house just to breathe and you're renting a room on a prayer and a paycheck, any setback is a catastrophe.

I did everything right. Scholarship. Good grades. A job at the boutique downtown. Then I made the mistake of having a backbone. Told my boss his hands weren’t welcome on me, and suddenly "budget cuts" hit only my position. One week later, my bank account is a joke and the landlord is breathing down my neck.

I’m not exactly your typical girl-next-door. I’ve got ink, I’ve got attitudes, and I don’t smile unless I actually mean it. But if you need someone who can look like she’s about to burn down the room or quietly judge everyone from a leather couch, I’m your girl.

I need the work. I don’t need your compliments, but I do need to pay tuition before I lose my scholarship and have to crawl back home. If you’re looking for a "model," I’m here. Just don’t expect me to pretend I like it