Models – Page 3 – Tony Ward

Kitchie Ohh: Rebuilding My Self-Esteem

Glamour model Kitchie Ohh in a bath tub wearing lingerie — Kitchie Ohh. Photo: Regina Marie Photography, Copyright 2024

Rebuilding My Selfesteem

As I sat down to write this I began as I always do, reflecting on how I even got to write this column. . It all started with a picture. Several pictures really.

A vanity project turned hobby, pinup photo shoots, began as something just for me. Dressing up, having full hair and makeup, pretending for a few hours while someone captures those moments. What’s not to love? Those sessions were a large part of rebuilding my self-esteem. They helped me find myself and my voice. This was especially true when I began having photosets published in magazines. I never did it for the attention. Contrary to popular belief there is NO money in it. It was validation. I was good enough to be included and felt good enough to even try.

Exploring this interest over the last decade or so also introduced me to some incredibly interesting and talented people. Photographers, makeup and hair artists, clothing and accessory designers, musicians, performers, and of course other models. For all the similarities that made our paths cross in the first place, there were countless differences that made us unique.

Initially, I felt incredibly welcomed into this community of retro-loving people. There were invitations to events, public and private, all the time. There were social groups that used common interests to benefit charitable causes. My professional fundraiser heart was so happy, I dove in headfirst. My skills and professional experience allowed me to lean in where I could be helpful with fundraising, social media, organization, volunteer management, anything and everything. It felt great. Until it didn’t.

Despite all outward claims of being welcoming and celebrating diversity in the scene, there was so much judgment, so many cliques, and far too much backstabbing where there should have been support. I speak in past tense due to removing myself from this social scene, but I cannot imagine much has changed since.

I found that, more often than not, inclusion came with a price. IF your uniqueness made you useful to someone or a group, you were included. If not, some other reason would be conjured as to why you weren’t included or invited. I also discovered that as much as you might hear words of encouragement to be yourself and not make comparisons, that wasn’t the standard practice. There was constant comparing and contrasting, not so quiet and not at all kind judgment of why one person’s appearance wasn’t as good as another’s, how their expression of themselves was inappropriate or not authentic. Be yourself, but in the way WE say is correct, or risk the potentially damaging repercussions. It’s not a competition, but I am way better than you. It was never said aloud, but generally understood, and felt.

In fact, one of the biggest things I grew to dislike about this part of my social history, was a blatant disregard of the ideas that “this isn’t a competition,” and “there’s no judgment here.” Yes, The Pinup Contest. I have been a contestant, judge and organizer in a few. I took home a crown once; it was a very strange feeling.

I soon realized why. In an environment where you’re told everyone is welcomed and there’s no judgement or comparison, one of the biggest entertainment outlets is to literally make a contest out of comparing people to one another and awarding prizes to the best. There were always nerves and self-conscious comments expressed by contestants, myself and my friends included. Inevitably, those feelings and comments got reinforced if/when someone else was deemed the winner. There was also the all-too-common occurrence that the winner was not genuinely congratulated. Instead there were whispered accusations about how or why they won and other nasty things said that made those who didn’t win feel better about the loss. In which case, there really was not a winner.

Looking back, there was absolutely nothing award-winning about my responses or appearance on the day I won that contest. I was simply familiar to the organizer. I had never entered any previous contest with them but by simply having attended other events, I was the best choice. It wasn’t exactly fair. Having made that realization, I never entered another contest and was extra careful to check my biases when judging the few I was involved with after.

It’s been several years since I’ve even considered myself a member of this community. Sure, there are individuals with whom I maintain friendships, but I no longer seek out events and contests with the crowd at large that pit women against one another. No disrespect to those who still put on the shows, attend and participate in the contests; they are just no longer for me. I’m a much happier person when I’m more concerned with showing up as the best version of myself and less so with actively trying to prove I’m better than anyone else. Because I’m not.

I ended up right back where it all began; doing things just for me. Blog contributions help me get thoughts out of my head, and maybe put an idea in someone else’s that changes their perspective; or at the very least allows them to kill a few minutes. I haven’t taken new photos in quite some time, but maybe I need to…just for me.

Kitchie Ohh is a full-time professional fundraiser who has worked with a number of health and human services nonprofits in the Philadelphia area over the last 20 years. She found her passion for modeling after a pinup-style photoshoot in 2013. Since then, she has worked with many talented photographers, stylists, hair and makeup artists in a variety of styles. She has been featured in- and on the covers of – multiple print and digital publications. Over the years, she has branched out from pinup studio modeling to serve as a figure model for live sketching, walked a runway, and was part of two campaigns for Philadelphia designer K. Vaughn.

In addition to her philanthropy-focused career, she has volunteered with art, historical, and community organizations, and even the events team of a local brewery for a while, pre-pandemic.

You’re just as likely to find her whipping up something deliciously plant-based in her kitchen or knitting a sweater as you are to find her on a photography set. Her motto is “be both.” The model and the homemaker, sultry and sweet, serious and silly. All the things, all at once. To access additional articles by Kitchie Ohh, link here: https://tonyward.com/kitchie-ohh-place-my-job-is-to-help/

Kitchie Ohh: My Job is To Help

Kitchie Ohh photographed for Tony Ward's Vixen's series wearing KVaughn ALUMINUM WRAP DRESS — Kitchie Ohh. The Vixens Series. Photo: Tony Ward, Copyright 2024

Styling by KVaughn for The Vixens Series

If you’ve had any number of jobs in your life, they probably weren’t all great. Maybe the job wasn’t satisfying, didn’t pay well, had terrible coworkers, or an even worse boss. It happens. More often than not, people take a job out of necessity. They work multiple jobs to make ends meet. They put up with a LOT of unnecessary stress and dysfunction just to afford to live. I know all of this all too well.

I’ve been working in the nonprofit space for all but one year of my career. I’m mission driven. Working for a cause helps make all of the office drama, the headaches and stress worth it. Until even that can’t balance the scales. I firmly believe people don’t leave jobs, they leave situations and people.

I began my previous job, as a food bank fundraiser, in the Autumn of 2019. It seemed so perfectly suited for me. I was really feeling like I found my place. I had just a few months in when the world shut down for the pandemic. As an essential service, we remained open, figuring out daily how we would operate amid ever-changing precautions. If that wasn’t stressful enough, we soon experienced a huge shift in leadership. Suddenly the amazing team we had built came crumbling down. New faces, new rules, resignations, terminations, a general sense of unease and mistrust. My perfect role was turning into a nightmare. I no longer had a designated space to work in the office, it was assigned to someone else, but I was still required to be there several days a week, finding whatever space was available. Soon, I was accused of not meeting the expectations of the job. Those expectations turned out to not even officially be related to my role with the organization. Yet, I was being reprimanded for failing to perform and told to start making them my responsibility if I wanted to remain on the payroll. I began the job search that day. It wasn’t easy.

In the midst of the job related stress, I had an emergency home repair that came with a giant price tag and also forced me out of my home with just a few hours notice. I had to pack myself up to live at the closest dog-friendly hotel for an as yet undetermined amount of time. Living and working from a standard room at the Red Roof Inn with a giant, nervous about everything dog was not a good time. It was even less of a good time being told unsympathetically, that regardless of what was happening, I still needed to be present at work.

In a shocking case of the Universe can be a real bitch sometimes, in between all of that, I lost my aunt quite suddenly. I did get to tell her goodbye, but it wasn’t enough time and it certainly wasn’t fair. As I sat with her, she rubbed my back and told me how proud she was of me for choosing the line of work I did. For making it my job to help people. It seemed a strange turn of phrase when she followed that up with, “you know what you have to do, you do, you can. Keep fighting. I love you.” Shortly after she passed, I had a very vivid dream about her. I was also having a rougher than usual day at work despite it being a “from home” day, and was talking to my sister to vent my frustration. Mentioning my dream, I was met with an “OMG ME TOO!!” We took a few minutes to laugh about it, recalling funny things about her and her way of being the unofficial boss of the family, while pondering what she was trying to say. I was feeling a little lighter so I dove back into work.

As I took my lunch break, I was hopefully checking my email to see if any of the job applications I completed had gotten responses. Instead, I found a notification about a position I might be interested in. I clicked. I read. It sounded perfect. And coincidentally the cause had a direct connection to my lovely, bossy, missed dearly aunt. The aunt I dreamed of, the one whose last words to me were cryptic then, but made total sense now. Shaking I relayed all of this to my sister. Who told me if I didn’t apply right fucking now, I was insane.

Over the next few weeks, I had a series of emails, phone calls, and in-person interviews. Every single one felt right. It went so fast. I was terrified, but I accepted an offer and tendered my resignation on the same day. Two weeks and three days later, I was sitting in my own office. Not a shared workspace that I could use only if no one else was. My name was on the door, still is.

I have grown so much in the last two-ish years touched on in all of the above, personally and professionally. I now know what that fighting and knowing what I had to do statement was all about. I have shown not only my new colleagues, but myself, what I’m capable of; that I DO actually know what I’m doing. I’ve fought for what is right and best practice to achieve the organizational goals. I’ve gained responsibility for many things, including the oversight of a whole team, and more coming. I’m co-leading a project that has been a long time coming and will be transformative. And most importantly, I feel heard, respected and trusted.

Just this week, my first annual review was filed. In my over two decades of work, I have gone through this process more times than I wanted to. This was the first time I was left speechless. I am honestly still processing some of the things that were said. Not because they were terrible, but because they were so positive and appreciative I didn’t know how to respond. Thanks? You’re welcome? SHUT UP!!! All of those and more ran through my head, and probably were said. It was more than the number crunch of ratings for ‘core values’ and accomplishments for the year. It was the way that someone – my boss – took the time to run through all of it but also relay to me that everything I have done since joining the team has pushed us in the right direction. That the way I am able to take every single thing that’s been thrown at me and somehow make it happen, is astounding. The way that if my name is brought up in a room where I am not present, only good things are said. The ability I have to remain calm while navigating outdated processes and simultaneously improving them is a superpower; and helped us exceed goals.

Everything has lead up to this moment. I am who I am because of every day before this one, everyone I’ve encountered and every lesson learned. I don’t know how the future is going to play out, but I’ll keep fighting for what I know has to be done, because I can. I got this, thanks Aunt Bet.

Lileet_Miriam: The Latest Vixen

Tara Mordin the latest Vixen in a series by Tony Ward Studio copyright 2024 — Tara Mordin. Photo: Tony Ward, Copyright 2024

Styling and Creative Direction by KVaughn

When I was contacted by Tony Ward Studio to partake in this project, “The Vixen Series,” I was genuinely honored, very excited, and quite honestly, humbled. I viewed this invitation to be in a league of its own – an elite circle of amazing women from all walks of life who were having their beauty, thoughts, strengths, and tribulations highlighted in a way that exuded power and commanded respect. As I began to ponder more on the concept of what it means to be deemed a “vixen,” I realized that the whole is greater than the sums of its parts. To be considered and included with these other “vixens,” meant that I brought something to the table that is equally powerful, enticing, and worthwhile that goes well beyond having a physical presence.

Many of us have had moments in life where we are our toughest critics – questioning our worth, doubting our abilities, obsessing over how others perceive us. I think being considered a vixen allows one to fully embrace their true, authentic self and showcases how their individual uniqueness has its place in this vast world. We each have physical and interpersonal traits that make us different from the next. When we acknowledge and accept such attributes and celebrate what they truly offer, it opens a window of opportunity that is filled with confidence, empowerment, even pride. The more positivity and ownership of our value that we portray to others, the more impact and inspiration it tends to have.

Over time, I feel that I have reached my own prime. I am unapologetically, me. I have grown a tremendous amount as a person, both inside and out. I have come to learn that my qualities do carry inherent value and that my input, time, energy, and overall presence, matter. Being a part of this series has reinforced that for me. It continuously sheds light that there truly is more to a person than what we first may see and that each of us should honor, praise, and recognize our own inner vixen, in all its amazing forms.

Sightseeing in Paris at night beautiful woman wearing lingerie exposing her beautiful legs as she looks onto the Eiffel Tower. — Sightseeing. Photo: Tony Ward, Copyright 2024

To access additional photographs from The Vixen’s Series portfolio, click here: https://tonyward.com/the-vixens-series/

Kitchie Ohh: After Month’s of Silence

fetish model Kitchie Ohh wearing a purple corset for a fantasy scene — Kitchie Ohh. Photo: Bombshell Pinups, Copyright 2024

After Month’s of Silence

Once upon a time, two people were feeling very bold. The first, we’ll call X, responded to a stranger’s- we’ll call Y- post on social media. Y replied, which was very out of character. They chatted and ultimately threw caution to the wind, arranging to meet in real life. And that was that. One date, if that’s even what it was, then it was done. Or was it?

Years later, X contacted Y out of the blue. It was pleasant but stayed online. No hard feelings about the past, just genuine curiosity about the present and best wishes that all was good. Again, they faded back into their separate lives.

More years passed, again, virtual paths collided. This time, they decided to meet once more, face to face. They enjoyed each other’s company, talked about all that had happened since the last time. One meet up turned into a second before the universe tugged them apart once more; not violently, more a steady gentle pull that both felt happening but neither did anything to prevent.

Time went by, as it always does. They stumbled into one another again. It was as if no time had passed. They spoke daily, they went out for dinner and drinks, stayed in for home cooked meals and movies, asked and answered deep questions by a bonfire. Surprisingly and uncharacteristically, Y allowed some vulnerability. It was difficult, Y stumbled over responses and apologized many times. But it was appreciated by M, who assured it was not something for which apology was necessary. Despite being terrified, not physically, but of the potential to be let down and have it all fade away once again, Y proceeded to put in effort to foster their connection. After a particularly interesting conversation, Y purchased a small gift, a book of poetry related to that conversation, and planned to present it to X at the next opportunity. That has yet to come.

After months of silence, a message:

X: It’s like we’ve been crossing paths for lifetimes. And I never mind it each time it happens

Y: I just keep showing up like a bad penny.

X: If you’re a bad penny what am I?!

You keep turning up more shiny.

Y: You then are the lucky- or unlucky-finder.

Depends on how you look at it. Also I am no more shiny today than any day before. Sometimes the light just hits differently.

X:You’re a strange and beautiful human, madam. Very beautiful.

Y: well, thank you, kindly. Until our paths cross again….

The end? To be continued? Who knows?

Did you guess that I am Y?. I won’t reveal X’s identity. This isn’t really about them. It’s about me me. The only thing I have control over in this entire universe; though even that seems questionable some days.

This entirely true story is a pattern. A known, recognizable, see it coming from a mile away occurrence. It’s happened before and likely will again. With X, with others, friends, more than friends, family. The relationship type doesn’t matter. I will learn nothing.

Well, that’s an exaggeration. I will learn many things. But I won’t burn a bridge needlessly.

Life is never a straight path, nor is it always a smooth one. Given those stretches where you get lost, hit a bump, or completely break down, sometimes the only thing we can do is concentrate on ourselves and getting through. In that process of self-preservation, people who were right by our side might pull away. That’s life.

Unless someone has hurt me in some unforgivable way, I’m always happy to have our paths cross again. More often than not, there’s a lot of change to catch up on. Neither of us is exactly the same person, for as much as we may have known one another, there’s a mystery chunk of time to reconcile, and time can change people.

Reconnections can be brief or maybe last a bit longer the second, third, hundredth, time around. But if there’s one thing I learned traveling my own winding path, it’s that you can’t force anyone you encounter along the way to stay. Nor should you.

This is not to say I discourage putting effort into relationships, I acknowledge that even the best ones take work. But personally, I take stock often of whether the work I’m putting in -to projects, people and relationships alike – is adding to my life. If not, I’ve become okay with letting it go, letting them go, with love and understanding, better for the having had the experience.

I look forward to all that lies ahead for me, the new and the familiar. What comes my way, stays or goes. People, places, adventures, the happiness and the heartbreak, all of it.

Related note:

I re-read the book I purchased for X and made a decision, it’s theirs. I’m just holding onto it until our paths cross again. And if they don’t, then I will think of them fondly as I flip through the pages.

Additionally, I’m sharing this fairy tale photo set because as soon as the words “once upon a time” escaped from my brain, through the keyboard, to the screen, I have been singing “Once Upon a Dream” from Disney’s Sleeping Beauty and, well, it had to be done.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

In addition to her philanthropy-focused career, she has volunteered with art, historical, and community organizations, and even the events team of a local brewery for a while, pre-pandemic.

Kitchie Ohh: Oh, It’s Nothing!

Glamour portrait of the very sexy pinup model Kitchie OHH for Tony Ward Studio — Kitchie Ohh. Photo: Victor Devilbliss. Copyright 2024

Oh, It’s Nothing!

If you’ve read my earlier posts here, you know how close I am with my family. They are a large part of the person I am today. If you haven’t, well, that’s kind of an understatement but still true.

Recently, I was shocked to get the several days delayed news that my mother had fallen and severely injured herself. She required immediate surgery and would need to remain in the hospital. It was very little consolation that this injury occurred while she was doing what she and my father love- seeing the world from on board a cruise ship- or that said ship was docked in the gorgeous port of Maui, Hawaii at the time. She was, literally, on the other side of the world, and there was not a damn thing I could do to help.

When we were finally able to speak, my parents told me of the excellent care at the hospital, the kindness delivered alongside the routine medical services. And, of course, they were thankful that the hospital was near beachfront and they had a gorgeous view. They could still see a bit of Hawaii, despite their situation.

My siblings and I, unknown to either of our parents, sprang into action, assigning and volunteering for key tasks that would need to be completed before mom came home. She would be unable to climb stairs for 6 weeks, maybe longer. There was no way we could allow her to come home without a plan that was in equal parts for her recuperation and for our peace of mind. We would need to make the ground floor comfortable enough to be a makeshift bedroom for her, clear enough to safely accommodate a wheelchair or walker, private enough to allow for daily hygiene tasks if she couldn’t get to the bathroom.There was more we didn’t know about what she needed, than what we did. Everything we could think to do, was done, having no idea when -or HOW- they would be getting home. We were as ready as we could be.

Luckily, my niece was with them and made the necessary flight and hotel arrangements to get them all safely from there to here. Just shy of one week from the day we heard the news, we were planning for their arrival back to Philadelphia. Unfortunately, the weather was not cooperating. A week of storms made travel more dangerous, not to mention added the never fun task of snow and ice removal to our to-do list. But that evening, the flight remained on time and we got mom and dad (niece and fiancée, too) home safely, to a clear driveway, and an organized house with only a few minor hiccups not even worth mentioning.

As we settled them in and listened to all of the details between hugs and tears, the relief everyone felt was obvious. Home is a magical, comforting place. We pointed out all that was done in preparation and made sure nothing was missed, addressing if it was. Soon, all of us were yawning, it was definitely time to rest, but not before confirming the remainder of the plan.

Reconvening the following morning, we shopped, chopped, cooked and meal prepped, cleaned and did laundry. We made it easy for dad to keep things going while he worried and fussed over mom. We also sat around and did what we do best. We ate, we talked and laughed, made wildly inappropriate jokes and brought back a sense of normalcy.

Completely overwhelmed, mom repeatedly apologized, dad paced, and both thanked us profusely. As we finished up tasks, made sure every detail was handled, Dad beamed, telling us how proud he was at the way we pulled together; no arguing, no questions asked, just jumping into action when they were in need.

My first thought was to say “oh, it’s nothing!” but recalled another instance of stepping in to handle a stressful situation for someone else and the response that remark got me.“Don’t ever say that. It may seem insignificant to you, but that small thing, that “nothing” meant so much more than words can express.” And so, standing in the kitchen, drying my hands after cleaning up the last of our mess, I hugged my dad, tightly, and told him, “that’s what we do, right? It’s what you and mom taught us, by showing us. If there’s something you can do to help, you do it. We love you.”

Honestly, there really isn’t a better lesson I can think of that they taught me by setting this example. It’s not one that only applies in times of crisis or just to family either. An action, a compliment, getting someone their favorite snack just because, being a hug or shoulder to cry on, whatever it may be, however little effort it took, it means something. It could mean everything to that person in that moment.

It’s the smallest things bring me the most joy, whether I’m providing or receiving them. Grand gestures make me uncomfortable. Words often go unsaid. But the ‘I saw this and thought of you,’ the ‘I did that thing you’ve been putting off so you don’t have to worry about it,’ the everyday mundane, small things, the going slightly out of your way, tolerating a mildly inconvenient moment for the benefit of someone else, unasked….THAT is love in the purest, kindest form.

So, in this month of all things chocolate, roses, hearts and love, as people bend over backward for their Valentines for one day, think smaller. It might mean more than you will ever know.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

In addition to her philanthropy-focused career, she has volunteered with art, historical, and community organizations, and even the events team of a local brewery for a while, pre-pandemic.