Mothering: My model daughters

"No, Marie. They always want money, and then there's the driving time to and from West Hollywood, and it's not a good environment for you to be in. Besides, it's oppressive to every other 13-year-old to see magazine covers of skinny blondes like you and think they have to look like that." For me it began when my oldest daughter, Roz, was in fourth grade, and her friend Molly in fifth. They pleaded with me to let them become models, and at last I said, "Fine -- but I don't have time to figure it out. You'll have to look it up in the phone book." After music and exhortations -- "Hold onto your dream!" -- the winners were announced and ran tearfully up to the stage to receive their awards: a free portfolio and six months of modeling school. The remaining thousands were told their photos would be "reviewed by agents who might call." I vowed to never again waste a Saturday doing this.