When I see things posted on Facebook or Twitter about who's said this or did that, I generally wonder what I've missed now and carry on my merry way, happy in my ignorance. Obviously there are times when that's not possible and I have to bite my lip and superglue my fingers to the desk so I don't jump in. And then there are the times where you know you should mind your own business.... but you just can't. The cover model furor about the behaviour of certain models is one of those times.
I can understand that the whole experience of having women leering over you might go to your head and double it in size. I can even understand that having your face on a cover can increase your head's size even further and you may have to start travelling in two cars... you know, one for you and the other for your massive ego. But please, sit back and consider how you got to that place... because I'm well aware that being a model doesn't automatically mean you're stupid - it also doesn't give you the right to be a complete arsehole.
Have you thought about it yet? Have you realised how you got to the place where you can feel that little warm glow that makes you think you're above everyone else? Yep, well done. I knew you could do it.
You are where you are because of the authors who choose you to be on their covers. The authors who you have basically terrorized and terrified. The authors who have lined your pockets.
Who else? Oh yes, the readers whose eyes are caught by your prettiness on the cover of a book and think, oooh, I'll have that one. Yes, it is true that you have already been paid for your participation before the book hits the shelves but that cover is getting you recognition. It's getting you friend requests on social media, followers and invitations to signings and conventions. And, who knows, maybe it'll get you eventually spotted by an agent who will have the unenviable task of getting your ginormous ego its own entourage - until everyone you work with, or meet, will discover that beauty really is only skin deep.
I would suggest that you and your giant head sit back. Take a good long look at yourself and make a change because, if you don't, your ego won't need an extra car, you'll be able to fit it in the basket on the front of the bicycle that is the only form of transport you will end up being able to afford.