An Empire Behind the Scenes

My mom was a medical photographer. After hours, she would sometimes take pictures of me and my brother in her studio. When I look at those pictures, I realize I am posing. I have my hand on my chin and I'm looking right at the camera. When I was about 9, my mom started a business photographing women in our living room who wanted a glamorous picture of themselves. I held her light meters and her reflectors. My mom would bring me into the darkroom, which was on our back porch, and develop the film. I was fascinated watching the pictures appear with that red light shining. It's so funny that the little assistant holding the lights was a supermodel in the making.

Growing up, I didn't think I was pretty, but I didn't think I was unattractive. Then I hit a stage where I definitely felt very unattractive. I grew three inches and lost 40 pounds in 90 days. It was just this crazy growth spurt. I felt like a freak: people would stare at me in the grocery store. Eventually, my face and body started to change. On my first day of high school, a girl came up to me and said, "Have you ever thought about modeling?" I thought she was crazy, but I decided to try it. My first modeling job was for a magazine called Black Collegiate. I was so excited because there was a little picture of me on the cover, above the title.

I didn't think I was modeling because I was beautiful; I thought it was because I looked like a model. There's a difference. I try to explain that on "America's Next Top Model." Models are tall, they have a big forehead, their chin is small, they have full lips—I knew I had that look.

I applied to college because I wanted to be a film/television producer and writer. I was accepted everywhere and was ready to go to Loyola Marymount. But a model scout from Paris came to the modeling agency in L.A., saw my picture and said, "That's the only girl I want." So I decided to defer college for a year.

Paris was weird and confusing for me.

I felt overwhelmed by all that was happening. I was 17, and I didn't know how to take care of myself. I asked my mom to send care packages of Fiddle Faddle and Oreos. I ended up eating them for breakfast, lunch and dinner. So I got sick. When my mom came to visit me, she saw all of that and refused to send me any more packages. She taught me how to shop and cook.