text: I never expected to become a fashion icon. Does anyone? I’m the last possible candidate for such status. I never considered the potential impact of paparazzi, photo shoots, or celebrity on my simple life. There were none. My time was my own, until... But here I am, standing in the wings. (Wings - get it?) While awaiting my debut, I’m fighting off butterflies. My life transformed after that photograph went viral. Of course, Phil isn’t a mere photographer. He discovered me. He has vision. We became friends. He’s my trusted manager. And, thanks to him, I’ve released my own line of cosmetics. You must’ve heard of it. Or, have you been living under a cabbage leaf? I call it, ‘All Abuzz.’ I should begin at the beginning. I’m Dottie. As I said, no one was more surprised than me over recent events. I should explain some things about my background, before fame lit up my life... You might have guessed I’m no ordinary supermodel. Before Phil discovered me, I was your garden variety ladybug. Nothing special. Yes, a ladybug. I’m quite aware of certain anti-insect biases in human society. Though not very sociable, I assure you I’m benign. I’m a loner. And I’m told I’m also cute as hell. The day Phil and I met, I’d finished my favorite lunch and had settled on a leaf to doze in the sun. A shadow moved and Phil loomed over me. Actually, I saw his magnified eye peering at me through what looked to be the bottom of a coke bottle. Later, he explained that was the macro lens of his camera. He’d only wanted to snap a picture of the ‘cutest little bug he’d ever seen.’ But from my vantage, he was intruding on my space and taking my picture without asking permission. No introduction. Nothing. What cheek. I called out, “Hey! Hey! Hold it there, big boy. What gives you the right to take my picture? You have a signed release? I may have been around the block once or twice but I didn’t arrive spattered on the business side of a windshield.” That gave Phil pause. He leaned in. “Can you speak up? I didn’t quite catch that.” I continued. “You a stalker or what?” That’s when he said he was a nature photographer. I’d heard of them. Bumblebees were always comparing notes on the best locations. “So, why me?” I asked. Phil chuckled. “You may not know it but you are so cute. Cute as...” I did a slow burn. “Yeah, I’ve heard that. Never mind.” Longlegs, my ‘daddy,’ wore that out. But Phil had my attention. He told me about the markets for pictures; fashion, news, art, and so on... He insisted how honored he was to capture my beauty. He said, “I can help you.” “Help me what? My life is fine without your blocking the sun.” He moved out of my light. “Wait! There is something. Can you deal with all the birds? They vex me. Can’t enjoy my lunch without worrying I’ll be some bird’s lunch.” Ants have colonies. Bees have hives. But we ladybugs enjoy our solitude. A day alone is a day in good company. Phil ran into the yard waving his arms and shouting. Normally unflappable, the birds took off and didn’t look back. Panting a little, he returned wearing a huge grin. “Haven’t done that since I was a kid. Happy to help.” He seemed sincere. We found agreement. If my image got attention, he would reimburse me for my time. Basically, all the aphids I could eat. Sounded like a win/win deal. I had doubts though. I said, “Sounds great, Phil. But I’m not some moth, dazzled by bright lights. What’s the catch?” “I understand, Dottie. You don’t know me. Let me prove myself. You won’t feel like bat guano.” I told him, “Okay... Let’s try. Step by step.” A few days later, Phil found me in the garden and told me how many thousands of clicks my picture received. That’s a lot of aphids. He showed me my photo on some rectangular gizmo he held in his hand. I can’t deny my surprise. I’d never looked in a mirror. I had no idea, no concept of what a ‘photograph’ is or what I looked like. I figured my family resembled me, but vanity didn’t run in my crowd. But, to tell the truth, I could see it. I am cute! And I’m a bug. So there! But what Phil told me next, blew me away. I was so shocked, I wanted to fly away home. He said women everywhere want my ‘look,’ whatever that means. I don’t know. Who expected polka dots to be all the rage? He set up a meeting with a cosmetics firm wanting to offer a product for women seeking that ‘look.’ My look. Phil introduced me to the team. He assured me he and I were partners. He also warned me the buying public can be fickle. What’s popular this week might be passé in a month. I said, “Don’t worry about me, Phil. I’m in it for the duration. I’m not some fruit fly - here today, gone with the dawn.” The meeting went very well. I did my version of the ‘fly on the wall.’ Phil represented us well. I felt respected. Some details got into the weeds a bit. I know nothing about cosmetics. And fine print is for those who can read. Women want my look? I’m here to help. They told us we’d get our own shelf in the big outlets. And my picture would be featured on the wall above my product. Like the other supermodels. A few weeks later, Phil took me to see the display at a free-standing make-up store. I’m a bug so, of course, I’d never seen anything like it. I couldn’t believe the swarm of women wanting my makeup. The staff kept restocking the shelves. Customers did ‘selfies’ with my big picture over their shoulder. All the jostling got unnerving. Phil kept me incognito, riding on his ear, so I’d feel safe. That night, I hosted a party in. It was huge. The garden was crawling with family and friends. They couldn’t believe our good fortune. Aphids, aphids everywhere! Of course, some neighboring ladybugs took an attitude, saying they were cuter than me. Bunch of termites... They may be. I don’t care. But Phil found me! I have ‘the look.’ One man’s bug is another man’s cutie. So, that brings my story up to date. The emcee brought Phil onstage to tell my back story. I stood in the shadows, about to go out and strut my stuff. Phil told the crowd I don’t do autographs. He asked them to respect my privacy. No crowding, please. He said, “You get it. Don’t bug her.” That got a big laugh. Then Phil shouted, “Everybody! Let’s welcome Ms. Dottie Ladybug!” Music swelled. A spotlight lit the curtain that hid me. That was my cue. Applause rippled. I can’t tell you how I felt that moment. So many people came to see me. Me! Little Dottie from the garden. So strange. Beyond comprehension. But the music kept going and so did the applause. All those hands clapping. One slip and that’d be it. Oops! Squashed. Bye, bye, Dottie! What a sendoff! It was now or never. I braced myself and took flight out of the shadows and into the blinding spotlight. I almost lost my way. I’m used to trees and hedges. The hall was immense and filled with people. My image, a thousand, million times bigger than me, was projected on a screen overhead. Was that me? How could it be? But I trusted Phil. He’d helped me the whole time. I made a beeline to the podium where a silver plate lay covered by a white cloth. Cameras were aimed so everyone could see the real me, up close for the first time. Wow! When I landed, the music stopped. The applause stopped. Then, crickets. All I heard were crickets. You never know who your friends are until you become a supermodel and see who shows up to your first show. The crickets came through. They weren’t ladybugs, but our families always got along. They showed up! They spoke my language! The show was a success. I was even on television (whatever that is). I had my moment in the sun. Happy I didn’t need to speak, I did what I was best at - being cute. Yes, I’d made a splash, so to speak. But you know how fickle fashion is. Tastes change. When sales flagged, I told Phil I’d had enough. We agreed I had a good run. Phil bought a private garden for me and my family. And aphids galore! I returned to my quiet life to enjoy peace and quiet with my family and friends. We were set. Life was good. And I’m still cute.