I Want To Be Reincarnated As A Victoria’s Secret Angel

As a writer, it’s my job to be deep.

It’s my responsibility to ask myself the tough questions like ‘who am I?’, ‘what do these feelings mean?’, and ‘why doesn’t my lap-desk have a cup holder?’

It’s a mental exercise I recommend for all aspiring writers. This week I’ve been thinking exclusively about death, which makes me wonder which theory of an afterlife is true. I’ve decided I’m just going to pick my favorite one and believe it: reincarnation. Heaven is cool, too, but I feel like I’d get bored if I was there forever, you know?

With reincarnation you get a second shot, and that got me thinking; if I could be reincarnated into anything in this world, what would I choose? At first I wanted to be some type of royalty, like a Saudi/British prince, but their lives are already outlined with restrictions and they have to be ‘PC’ all the time. Trust Fund Baby would be nice, but they always end up with daddy issues. That’s when it hit me like a ton of bricks: I’d be a Victoria’s Secret Angel. I know what you’re thinking, that’s a weird thing for a guy to say, but again, as a writer I have to think beyond gender restrictions.

It would be the best life, plain and simple. I’d be the most popular girl in high school by far; tons of guy friends, fewer legit girl friends, prom queen, ASB president if I felt ambitious. Every time I changed my profile pic it would get the most likes, everyone would tell me how beautiful I was as if I didn’t already know. No one would bully me, I mean, what would they say? “She’s so tall, it’s gross,” or “She eats so much junk food but has a naturally fast metabolism, what a bitch.”

I’d save my parents a shit load of money by not going to college, because by 18 my career is taking off and I’m traveling the world so I wouldn’t have time for college anyway. And what would be the point? I’d already have everything I need for my career, all I would need to do is combine an hour of yoga with a healthy diet – it’s not rocket science.

By 21, I’d be a full-fledged Angel, but not just any Angel, the best one; billboards, magazines, movies, tasteful music videos, millions following my Instagram and all the while I’m still traveling to the most exclusive, exotic locations in the world, maybe even on private jets. After an exhausting day of yoga and having my picture taken, I’d wind down with Caprese salad and a massage, and this is on like, a Tuesday.

By 30, I wouldn’t be just a ‘model’ or ‘Angel,’ I’d be an artist or a master of self-expression, and anyone who said otherwise would be jealous. I’d need to start thinking about a husband, my biological clock would be ticking, but luckily I could just choose whomever I want. I think this would be the most challenging decision of my life; would I choose wealth or power? Maybe I’d choose a mixture of both? Ugh, at this point I’d definitely start to resent the people who said being beautiful was easy.

I don’t really know what Angels do when they retire. I’m pretty sure I’d have enough money if I played my cards right. I’d have someone write my memoir, start my own fashion line, and just chill with my kids and rich husband. Yeah, being a Victoria’s Secret Angel would be awesome.