Among the most memorable episodes in any season of America’s Next Top Model is the makeover, where contestants are turned into high-fashion models through haircuts; often, these dramatic transformations would cause tears. For me, it was a chance to become exactly what the producers wanted. I was 19 years old and the only plus-size model in cycle nine. Everything up until that point felt like a first: my first time on set, my first time seeing a runway, my first time having my photo taken professionally outside of JC Penney. Even my own actions and responses took me by surprise. The instances where I grasped what was about to happen became the cornerstones of my experience.
In the foyer of Ken Paves Salon, the digitally altered image of me with a blonde pixie cut instead of my usual long brown hair, presented by host Tyra Banks, filled me with delight. This hairstyle mirrored more closely the person I felt I was inside. A fleeting memory resurfaced – a woman with this same style who danced with a lesbian burlesque troupe in Boston. I found myself backstage at one of our shows, watching her perform in leather chaps and a hat. As she tossed off her hat to reveal her short, disheveled hair, my carefully coiffed victory rolls felt out of place. This memory served as an unexpected yet exhilarating gift to me, even if I couldn’t fully explain why.
During that period, my distinctive hairstyle was commonly referred to as the “Rihanna cut,” but it’s now more widely recognized as the “Karen” style. People often express their dislike for it, yet I continue to appreciate it. Growing up, I was taught to always present myself in a feminine manner and constantly monitor my appearance. Being on America’s Next Top Model meant giving control of my looks to others, which paradoxically allowed me to step out of that role for the first time. Later, I revealed my bisexuality to the cameras. It wasn’t so much a “coming out” as it was a self-discovery process. The person whose acceptance mattered most to me was myself. Regardless of others’ opinions, it was crucial that I accepted myself.
Return when your hair is longer.” They sought “plump, cheerful women with plump, content smiles and long tresses,” as a particular agent penned in a letter to me. I began to perceive that Tyra and her team were unaware of the nuances of the plus-size modeling world. Their intentions seemed not to nurture my career but rather to capture my response on camera.
Striving for the Summit: A Journey of Transformations, Trickery, and Avoiding the Crown as America’s Next Top Contestant
As a movie critic, I’ve been anxiously anticipating our transformation day, affectionately dubbed “New Weave Day”, since the very beginning. Bianca warned me with a mischievous grin, “You had better be prepared! It’s no longer exclusive to black girls; even white women are getting weaves nowadays. With such diversity in options, I’m certain my day will bring me long, dark tresses.
You’d really suit that hairstyle, it might even resemble Naomi Campbell’s. I’ve often thought about having blonde hair myself.
They may cut your hair short since they find your face appealing, as they often prefer a shorter style for people with attractive faces.
“Oooh, that would be so cool.”
“Really?” she asked, surprised. “I do not want them cutting all my hair off.”
I’ve always yearned to be the type who could spontaneously transform their hairstyle; unfortunately, the opportunity hadn’t presented itself. The allure of a grand hair unveiling never fails to captivate me: casually strolling into a room as an entirely new person without fuss and hearing exclamations like, “Wow, your hair!
Prior to appearing on the show, I had a brief romance with a man who was moderately attractive but incredibly dull. Our intimate moments left much to be desired. Despite his monotony, there was one minor aspect that piqued my curiosity: at the tip of his penis, he had a large, circular piercing. When I first laid eyes on it, I was taken aback.
“Do you not like it?” he asked.
I was taken aback, honestly not anticipating it, but you do have a piercing,” I remarked.
“Yeah, I don’t know, I just decided to do it one day.”
I understand your sentiments,” I replied. “At times, I feel like chopping off all my hair or going for an unconventional hair color.
“Oh God,” he said, pulling a face. “If you cut your hair off, I wouldn’t even want to talk to you.”
Don’t threaten me with a good time, I thought before leaving.
As I was preparing to go on set for the show, my latest partner and I shared a chuckle over the man who ignored me when I changed my hairstyle. This joke turned out to be something we often found amusing among ourselves.
I mentioned to him,” I said, “That if I appear on that program, they could shave my entire head. In other words, you’d need to back up your words with action.
“I promise I will still want to talk to you if you cut your hair.”
Now, here I found myself, backing up my words in a grand mansion, surrounded by some of the most stunning women I’d ever encountered, anxiously anticipating the spectacle that was supposed to transform our looks and lives. Each appearance of Tyra Mail prompted Bianca and me to clasp hands and murmur, “New Hairdo Day, New Hairdo Day, New Hairdo Day,” as a girl unveiled the card to decipher its message. Regardless of the mysterious text on the card, we’d always strive to find a way to interpret it as a makeover.
Then finally, the Tyra Mail we were waiting for arrived.
Jenah, with sparkling eyes, said, “‘Just as a butterfly needs transformation, so does a real Top Model embrace some change.’
It was crystal clear that New Weave Day had arrived. Everyone cheered with enthusiasm, except for Chantal, who seemed anxious and gave a tender farewell to her long, well-maintained golden locks.
The makeovers provided a refreshing break from my continuous worry. Here was an opportunity where I didn’t have to ponder over actions or words, all I had to do was arrive and take a seat in the salon chair. I had handed myself over entirely to the producers; they owned me, my body, my thoughts, and my hair.
The producer hinted at our suspicions when he advised us to bring a hat or scarf for potential head covering during interviews the next day, “as a precaution.
The following day, we found ourselves at Ken Paves Salon, our hats, scarves, and interview attire neatly tucked inside our large handbags. The atmosphere was bustling with activity due to Miss J, Mr. Jay, and Tyra needing to be prepared for their roles. We were unfazed by the extra wait since we were given the luxury of perusing the magazines in the salon lounge area. Being disconnected from the world for such an extended period, it was a welcome change to immerse ourselves in these publications. Reading a celebrity gossip magazine in this upscale L.A. salon felt remarkably different compared to my usual reading spot back home, thousands of miles away from the glamorous figures gracing the pages.
Once we were moved and settled, they instructed us to greet the Jays upon their entry and shout when Tyra followed them in.
The trio positioned themselves beside a monitor showing our Polaroid snapshots taken during the selection process. A slight flinch crossed my face as my photo appeared. That photographer clearly lacked skills for capturing a good image – who was she? As Tyra explained our makeover, the image would metamorphose into a digitally enhanced version of our future looks. Each in turn, we observed as our visages were magically transformed into what Tyra, Mr. Jay, and Miss J deemed Real Models. I gaped and emitted a delighted squeal when I saw my hair turning blonder and shorter, almost resembling a pixie cut. It reminded me of Rihanna’s iconic style. The punk-inspired haircut brought to mind the self-assured women I had admired from a distance in college, wishing to be like them, to be with them. I eagerly anticipated transforming into that person reflected in the new image.
Everyone else appeared quite enthusiastic about their upcoming transformations, and no major alterations were anticipated. However, when it came to Heather, things took an unexpected turn. What was once long, sleek black hair morphed into a sharp, edgy pixie-mohawk hybrid. Our heads spun quickly to catch her response.
“Ahhhh!” she screamed gleefully. “I love it!”
Tyra and Mr. Jay looked like they’d swallowed their tongues.
Heather remembered with delight how she saw her friend utterly astonished… It turns out, this sudden transformation was an enormous surprise for the autistic girl.
In essence, Tyra clarified that contrary to what might have been implied, they weren’t actually planning on changing her hairstyle. The situation was quite awkward and uncomfortable, necessitating a re-recording of the audio for the show later on. When the episode eventually aired, it appeared as if they hadn’t attempted to prank the autistic girl with a fake mohawk.
The stylists alternated working with us, meaning some of us were seated for haircuts immediately while others had extra time to relax and peruse magazines. For the first time in weeks, I felt authentically me – energetic, playful, and a touch spontaneous. I was eagerly anticipating returning home and surprising everyone by appearing completely transformed, eliciting that delightful exclamation: “Your hair!
I glanced at my lengthy brown tresses, recalling a piece I’d read about an organization named Locks of Love that accepts donations of long, untreated hair for wig-making for cancer patients. I then approached a hairstylist and inquired, “Is my hair long enough to qualify for donation with Locks of Love?
She queried, giving my ponytail a gentle tug, “It seems so, doesn’t it? Shall we proceed with that?
“Yes, please!”
After consulting with a producer, the decision was made that Ken Paves would be the one to cut off my ponytail, which he then sent in. As I was positioned in the chair, cameras encircled me, and Ken asked, “Are you prepared? This is an amazing act of generosity, and someone will cherish this hair.
Initially, being under the camera’s lens felt cozy and reassuring. But unexpectedly, it turned slime-like. Was this entire endeavor just for a spotlight? In my mind, regardless of the show, I’d eventually chop off all my hair to donate to Locks of Love, I fervently wished that was the case.
“Are you nervous about having short hair?” asked Ken.
I responded by saying, ‘Not at all,’ because while I’ve secretly desired it, I was concerned that with my mom having short hair, the resemblance between us might be too strong.
“You don’t want to look like your mom?” said Ken teasingly.
“Oh, no,” I said hurriedly. “I look so much like my mom, like, exactly like her.”
“Then she must be beautiful,” he said.
She is. People often remark that we resemble sisters, a comment intended as a compliment for her. However, I can’t help but wonder sometimes, does this mean I appear older? It’s not that I don’t want to emulate my mother, it’s more about not wanting to resemble someone who embodies the stereotype of a ‘soccer mom’. You understand, right?
I believe your appearance won’t resemble that of a typical mom. Instead, I plan to give it an extremely trendy and bold look. I might even color your eyebrows to add an edgy touch. That’s very reminiscent of models.
In no time at all, I found myself rising from my seat, gently caressing my freshly cut short locks and uncovered nape, feeling every bit the fashion model.
When it was my chance to take action, I strolled towards the scene and noticed a wardrobe table that appeared peculiar. It lacked any garments or outfits – instead, we’d all be adorned with vibrant strips of fabric. Masha and Anda, our stylists, would artfully tie and drape these strips on us in intricate patterns. My strips were indigo-colored.
Anda or Masha commented, ‘This will really accentuate your style with your hair and eyes,’ as she looped the material around my hips and weaved it between my legs.
“So hot,” agreed Masha or possibly Anda, down at my feet, having just rubbed my legs with baby oil.
I was feeling quite warm. It was as if I were sun-kissed, long-legged, golden-haired, glistening, and incredibly hot. With the photographer, I gave it my all, leaping at each snap of the camera. I truly tested the limits of those delicate, limp fabric strips.
“Yes!” said the photographer. “More!”
“I don’t want to pop a boob!”
They reassured her, “Don’t give it a second thought.” They explained, “We can easily adjust the image during editing to conceal a small amount of exposed skin. Make sure the straps remain visible nearby.
Nearly instantaneously, my top slipped off revealing me, and I quickly readjusted, as if I was mending a broken machine. A grin spread across my face, appreciative of this environment where my unconventional jokes and accident-prone chest were considered ordinary. Perhaps here, on the show, I could rediscover my authentic self, the pre-show Sarah.
When they interviewed me about it, the producer seemed surprised at how excited I was.
“How do you feel about such a drastic change?” he asked.
“Amazing. I’ve always wanted short hair.”
“Your hair was so long before, weren’t you a little bit sad to see it all go?”
To be truthful, I wasn’t downcast in the slightest about chopping off my long tresses. In fact, I’ve yearned for a shorter style for quite some time! Plus, it gave me the chance to contribute it to a worthy organization like Locks of Love, which made me feel even better about the change.
“Are you worried it’s going to look masculine? Or do you think it’s fierce?”
To be honest, I’m not concerned that my short hair makes me appear more masculine. Given my curvaceous figure, I believe it adds an edge to my appearance, making it even more assertive and stylish.
Do you have concerns about appearing more voluptuous after this, perhaps giving the impression of being larger in size?
Actually, I hadn’t given it much thought if this haircut would make me appear curvier, but now I find myself concerned,” I admitted, feeling a bit down. The apprehensive Sarah within me resurfaced, and I started to worry about every action. Preparing for such moments. Suddenly, I felt drained.
“Were you nervous about wearing something so revealing at the photo shoot?”
Regarding your query about feeling anxious over showing something bold during the photoshoot, I honestly didn’t. I viewed it as an inherent aspect of the role. frankly, the thought of posing without clothing doesn’t faze me.
Weren’t you concerned, given that you were the larger-sized contestant, about exposing your midriff and displaying a lot of skin?” he inquired.
In a light-hearted manner, I jokingly admitted that my greater concern during the photoshoot was accidentally exposing myself rather than baring so much skin. Despite this, it’s important to note that I wasn’t concerned about being exposed or sexualized. What truly bothered me was the potential of being perceived as overweight and unhappy. Essentially, feeling like an outsider or less-than because I am more than just my physical appearance. I tried to maintain a polite smile, but inside I felt nauseous, wishing I could either vomit or leave. Unfortunately, I had no choice but to endure until the interview concluded.
“Do you think your makeover is going to give you an advantage over the other girls?”
Instead of saying “God no,” I kept it to myself, but that’s what I was thinking. I don’t have an edge over the other girls and I feel as low as dirt stuck under somebody’s shoe.
I didn’t utter “God no,” but I thought it. I’m on par with all the other girls and I feel like I’m nothing more than grime at the bottom of someone’s shoe.
I’m not sure if my makeover will give me an edge over the other girls, but I do feel fortunate because… I truly love it. It can be frustrating when you don’t like your hair, so I’m just happy to have one that I like.
“So, do you think Bianca is at a disadvantage? That she’ll do worse?”
I walked right into that one.
It seems Bianca will be just dandy. Her beauty is stunning, and I must admit, her shaved head style really suits her. She exudes a model-like elegance.
“So would you say that Bianca is overreacting to her makeover?”
Bianca isn’t overreacting in my opinion. We’ve all had a very stressful day today, and I can understand why she might feel upset if someone shaved her head. My mom told me that I have an unusual shaped head because I was born via C-section, so I guess there could be some truth to that.
He chuckled, but I could tell he wasn’t happy with my answer.
I found myself pondering over the appropriate choice in that situation. Could it possibly be that he thought I would harm Bianca at her lowest point? Growing up, I was taught to be considerate and kind, yet in that moment, being diplomatic seemed more like a vulnerability.
I returned to the hair salon, tugging at my garments a bit nervously. Upon reaching the lounge again, I sensed an uneasy atmosphere. I settled into a seat.
“What’s up?” I asked Bianca.
She glanced about and moved nearer to murmur, “Victoria discovered a sheet containing, essentially, a roster of our names alongside descriptions of our character traits and their proposed modifications.
I see,” I replied, not too taken aback. It was only natural that there would be a strategy in place for how we were to be depicted and molded. As characters of this season, it wasn’t unexpected that our public images were being crafted from the footage they had collected. Nigel Barker often referred to us as “characters” during his interview with Oliver TwiXt, even correcting himself to say “girls.” So, I assumed that somewhere, someone was shaping our public personas from all the material they’d gathered. “Have you seen what it said about you? Or about me?” I inquired.
“I don’t know, she didn’t say,” said Bianca.
Jenah walked in. “Did you hear?” we asked her.
“Yeah,” she said conspiratorially. “Crazy.”
“I know they’re going to make me the villain,” said Bianca. “I know who I am.”
“Man,” I said. “I have no idea who I am.”
“The producers know,” said Jenah, and we all nodded.
The details seemed to flow past me without making a lasting impression. It appeared important or infuriating, yet all I could feel was weariness instead of concern or anger.
I queried David St. John, our chief producer overseeing the project and responsible for conducting many interviews, regarding the likelihood of Victoria stumbling upon something similar.
He made it clear, “Absolutely not. It’s strictly forbidden for producers to carry such documentation on the filming location.
Following the broadcast of my elimination episode, I seized the opportunity to venture into modeling. To ready myself, I compiled a list of model agencies in New York City that specialized in plus-size models, and as soon as it was legally permissible, I began submitting applications and attending open casting calls. I crossed paths with Nolé Marin, a former judge from America’s Next Top Model who owned an agency, at a fashion show competition we were both judging, and he consented to meet with me.
I visited his office in the heart of Manhattan and settled into a luxurious leopard-patterned armchair. He took his seat facing me, with his hands tucked away and a thoughtful expression on his face as he scrutinized me from head to toe.
Initially, it’s crucial for you to shed approximately 30 pounds,” he explained to me. However, his ample figure made me question, “Oh, I apologize, but I must clarify – I aspire to become a model specializing in plus-sized fashion.
“Oh,” he said, confused. “I mean, have you thought about just losing 30 pounds?”
I smiled and shrugged.
At my agency, we don’t represent models who are plus-sized, however, I can certainly recommend you to Wilhelmina Models if you’re interested. They are known for having an exceptional curve division.
I replied enthusiastically, noting that “curve” was another term for larger-sized models. However, he cautioned me, “Keep in mind, it might be challenging for a plus-size model with short hair to secure a contract.
It turned out he was correct. I encountered one agent after another, and they consistently advised me to return when my hair had grown longer. Even Wilhelmina echoed this sentiment. None of them mentioned that I was underweight. In fact, their primary concern didn’t seem to be ‘Top Model’, but rather why my hair was so short. One agent phrased it thusly: “We prefer full-figured girls with bright smiles and long hair.” This reminded me of the women in my mom’s Newport News catalogues.
I continued working, set some savings aside, and had my teeth whitened. After that, my boyfriend gave me hair extensions as a gift. In order to save money and pursue modeling seriously, I left school and moved in with him. I landed a job at a chiropractor’s office that allows me the flexibility to attend photo shoots and auditions.
I was terrified to tell my grandfather that I was leaving school, but he surprised me.
“This is a bizarre opportunity you’ve stumbled into,” he said.
“Yeah, and I want to make the most of it,” I said eagerly.
He said, “I agree with that, it’s a good idea.” He added, “You can always return to school when you’re ready. The world of modeling may not last forever.
“I don’t want to do this forever,” I said.
“And you can’t. There will be an expiration date. Just remember that.”
“Stepping into the realm of reality television, I found myself immersed in the high-stakes world of ‘America’s Next Top Model,’ as recounted in Sarah Hartshorne’s memoir, ‘You Wanna Be On Top?’ (Crown, 2025). This isn’t just a tale of makeovers and modeling; it’s a raw exploration of manipulation and the relentless pursuit of stardom.”
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