On My Own Two Feet by Amy Purdy

Author:Amy Purdy
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins

BY SPRING 2003, I was ready to join Daniel full-time in San Diego. Just as I began making plans for that transition, I got the kind of call you don’t get every day. It was from Madonna’s manager.

“Hello, is this Amy Purdy?”

“Yes it is.” I sat down on the sofa.

“Hello, Amy,” she said. “I’m Madonna’s manager. We’re doing a music video in L.A., and Madonna wants to feature a young woman who can play a runway model and who also has prosthetic legs. We heard about you, and I wanted to know if you could come out and be in the video.”

I nearly dropped the phone. “Uh, yes,” I said, my voice tremoring. “When is it?”

“It’s in two days.”

While I picked up my jaw from the ground, the woman went on to explain that she’d gotten my phone number from an actor she’d previously worked with, a man I’d met the summer before through the San Diego organization called Challenged Athletes Foundation (CAF). Little had I known that by meeting him, I’d one day be getting a call from one of my musical idols.

“Can we fly you out to L.A. this Wednesday?” the manager pressed, trying to pull me out of my state of speechlessness.

“Oh my gosh, yes,” I said. “I can!”

“The video is for the song ‘American Life,’” she told me.

This was exactly the kind of thing I’d wanted to do. And leave it to Madonna, the forward-thinking artist who’d once been the inspiration for me to chop off my Barbie dolls’ hair, to create such a unique video. How amazing would it be for the world to see a video that made prosthetic legs actually look cool? As soon as I put down the phone, my mind raced with what I needed to do to get ready: How will I wear my hair? What should I wear? Which feet should I pack? And will I get to meet the Material Girl herself?

I drove out to Los Angeles and stayed with Beth and her boyfriend—by this time she was dating actor Jason Lee. From their gorgeous home, I drove myself to the studio. When I arrived, the building was abuzz: The cast and crew busied themselves around the set, preparing for the shoot. I was ushered backstage to meet with the wardrobe team. “We’re not sure what to put you in,” said the wardrobe manager. She wandered off, rifling through the massive racks of clothes. She returned a few minutes later holding a beige peasant-looking dress; it was one of the most drab outfits I’d ever seen. “Let’s put you in this,” she said, holding it up. I ducked away to a dressing room, removed my jeans and shirt, and put on the dress. The dress draped down to the floor, covering my legs, and I kept thinking, If the point was for me to show my legs, then why did they even hire me if they were planning to cover me up?

A few minutes later, someone shuffled me over to the hair and makeup area—and the stylist put my hair in these two big braids.

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