"Stretching"

Daphne hated posing with babies. "If you want a baby picture, you don't need me," she said, illogically, because, of course, someone had to play "beauteous mother" to "innocence personified" frolicking on the sandy beach, and she would be paid some $5,000 the shoot -- not bad for a day's work.

But earlier that week, she'd read a book called Being Your Own Brand, and while she remembered little of the book beyond its title, that title certainly resonated for Daphne. I am my own brand, she thought. Like Kleenex. No, more like Rolex...or Tiffany's!

Convinced that each and every endeavor she undertook should drive her goals for "The Daphne Brand," she left the handsome toddler in a nearby Pack-N-Play and walked off the set with a regal swagger, smiling contented at the frantic buzzing behind her, nearly laughing with glee at the sound of her name...

"What're you...Daphne!"

"Hey! Daphne!"

"Daphne, stop!"

I'll never stop, she thought. I will be what I was always meant to be. I'll be known for class, I'll be sexy, I'll be hot, I'll be me, and only me.

"Now. Where's my car?" she said quietly to herself, staring out over the ocean at the empty blue horizon, noting, suddenly, the cool of the salt water lapping at her knees.

Daphne closed her eyes and breathed like they taught her to do in yoga class. She performed an elegant pirouette, as best she could in the knee deep water, and strode up the beach where the photographer, publicists, agents, lighting crew and nanny waited -- some gaping, some smiling.

"Now," Daphne, deploying a smile described in the Prairie View, Minnesota High School yearbook as 'one that can confirm your belief in a higher power', said, "Where is that beautiful little boy?"

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