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I started my modelling career when I was only 3 years old. More accurately my mother decided I needed to start my modelling career when I was only 3 years old. Being so young I obviously didn’t get much of a say. You see my mother was sick and tired of our tiny 2-bedroom flat in the shady part of town and living paycheque to paycheque. She wanted more. Much more. A mansion so big you could get lost in it. Flashy sports cars. A well-known designer’s name on every single item of clothing and accessory she owned. She craved this lavish lifestyle and would do anything to get it even if it meant sacrificing the happiness of her only child.
Me. Austin Isaac. The most sought out model and actor in America. Potentially even the world. My mother said that she knew the minute I was born I would be a star. With my bright blue eyes and the wisps of black hair that went perfectly with my tan complexion. She said people would love me. That was one of the only things she was right about. They did love me. Maybe not anymore. You never know what people think of you. They’ll never say it to your face. Especially to me. People will just talk shit about me online to make themselves feel better.
I started acting when I was 6. Modelling wasn’t bringing in enough money to fund my mother’s shopping addiction though she would never admit that. So I was forced in front of more cameras and flashing lights and now I also had boom mics dangling over my head or microphones attached to my clothing. It was constant. Learning lines, being told how to look for every single role I got. And it wasn’t just for roles. I was also told how I should look in public. You never know when you might get photographed by the paparazzi and my mother needed to make sure I was always looking my best.
But I was young. I just thought it was one big game of dress up. Before I was 8, I had played a Victorian orphan, an angel, a child genius, even a super villain. And I always got a special treat after every single job. My father made sure of it. Quite often it was ice cream. He would pick me up from wherever I had been filming, run into the store and buy the biggest ice cream he could find. My mother hated that. Said the sugar would rot my teeth.
‘Did you take him out for ice cream again?!’ My mother would always shout the minute we came in the front door.
‘He deserves a treat every now and then.’ My father would argue. ‘Austin worked hard today. And it’s not like we can’t afford it.’
‘It’ll cause his teeth to decay. I don’t want my precious boy having no teeth. I don’t want him looking like some kind of monster.’
I quickly covered my mouth with my hand. I hated when she talked about it. She made it sound like the worst thing that could ever happen. I was a child. The thought of all my teeth falling out terrified me.
I know I was lucky growing up. I was a healthy child with loving parents. Many people don’t have that. But it wasn’t all fun and games and I wasn’t going to realise that until I was older and by then it was far too late. I couldn’t get out of it.
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