My Boudoir Photo Shoot
Why I said I’d never do it:
I was always taught modesty, modesty, modesty… and that people should dress for their size. Not just in my home, but everywhere I looked. From an early age, even when it wasn’t explicitly stated, I knew big girls couldn’t be cheerleaders, big girls couldn’t be models and that big girls shopped at big girl stores. And even though I’ve spent most of my life teeter-tottering on the line that divides plus size and the rest of the world, I was programmed to not like or feel comfortable in my own skin unless my weight and the number associated with my waist, breast and hips were within a certain range. This applies to my time spent on active duty as well. Being overweight was considered shameful and embarrassing. It was also disrespectful to the uniform. Even at a size 6 I often skipped meals, used laxatives and excessively worked out because my breast and thighs were too big. I remember being told so many times how huge my “rack” was and/or how “big boned” or “thick” I was. All were indications that I needed to lose just a little more.
After I reached my EAS from the military I gained weight. I had some medical issues that prevented me from being able to work out the way I was used to and I struggled to stay in shape. In addition, as hard as it may be to believe I was not really aware of my fluctuating weight or changing body type initially. There were things I couldn’t fit any longer or that didn’t fall the same way but for the most part I was somewhat oblivious to how much weight I’d actually put on. Once I did become aware of my size, which was after seeing myself in photos, I vowed to get back down to my military shape, size, weight, activity level, etc. and I wanted to do it by the age of thirty. My reward was that I’d pose nude. When I set the goal I was in a relationship. Although the goal was 100% for me, the reward was for my partner. After several years together I was running out of cool gift ideas so posing nude was a random, what can I offer that I haven’t already done that would blow their mind type of thing. I also wanted to make a statement and present myself in the most vulnerable way I could think of. There’s nothing more vulnerable than being naked.
Why I did it:
One day during a random conversation with colleagues at work, someone commented on how much time I spend working out. This morphed into a conversation about body image and weight loss goals. Someone asked me what if you never reach your goal? It was also pointed out that I’m older. That my body may not be happy at the weight it was at sixteen, eighteen, twenty-four… It was somewhat of an epiphany. The more I thought about it, the more I questioned how much time I should be spending on this one area of my life. Especially when the time and effort I placed there limited the amount of time I had left appreciating all the other amazing things actually going good that I’ve worked just as hard for.
So I decided I had spent enough time worried about my weight. That I should instead focus on accepting myself, mind and body, as I am. This doesn’t mean I don’t care about my weight or my health, but it does mean I recognize there is more to me than the size clothing I wear and the number on the scale. I hadn’t thought about posing nude in years but the second my thought process changed from “You have to look a certain way to be acceptable, attractive and ultimately happy” to “What if this is the You you’ve got for the rest of your life,” things changed.
I made a list of all the things I said I’d never do for reasons related to rules I’ve never enjoyed following. Posing nude was at the top of my list. Doing the shoot was also somewhat of a fuck you to the stereotypes, stigmas and rules that have dictated more of my decisions than I care to admit. It was me setting my own standards. Making my own rules. Me admitting to myself that even if I’m never a size six again, I’m still enough. It was me giving myself permission to be, and to see myself as, attractive, sexy, desirable and ultimately happy. It was me owning the person I am today, inside and out, instead of working to become someone I was ten years ago.
What I did:
Ok, so… maybe I didn’t go completely nude, but I think being in sexy see through panties, thigh highs, heels and nothing else in front of a stranger I’d barely met an hour ago is pretty damned close!
When I was in the military I heard about a company that did photo shoots for military spouses. It was a gift idea for their partners who were serving abroad. Once I decided to do the shoot I knew from previous research this was who I wanted to shoot me. So much so I drove over six hours one way to get to them for a three hour booking before driving another five hours back home.
I was absofuckinglutely terrified! So much so, I was shaking pretty bad when I arrived for my boudoir photo op. My photographer, who may I add was also my makeup artist, hair stylist, therapist and cheerleader, made the shoot as comfortable and relaxing as humanly possible. Although I’d brought my own lingerie, my photographer also helped me mix and match my items with items from the company closet to not only get the best looks for me, but looks that helped me accomplish what it was I was there for. Interestingly enough, I selected items that were no doubt sexy, but all full coverage, dark and slimming, etc.. These items were selected based on my idea of what Big Girls should be wearing and not exactly what I wanted to wear or what I envisioned as sexy. I was still limiting myself even while attempting to destroy the mold I’d been bound by all these years. My photographer was well aware of what I was trying to accomplish and asked me to trust her. It took a good thirty minutes or so to warm up to her, but once I did magic happened… and my bra came off!
The results:
I didn’t see any of the pictures during the shoot. This decision was made by my photographer. Because I was so overtly nervous and uncomfortable at first, she feared me seeing just one picture I didn’t like, or just seeing myself in a way I never had before, would mess with my head and ruin the shoot. The shoot itself was awkward but fun. The photographer demonstrated or talked me into most of the positions we settled on while some were just the result of my awkwardness and constant desire to stay off my feet in heels I couldn’t walk in. We also talked and laughed the entire time. Although I was booked for about three hours, I was there just a little over two. Most of that was getting my hair and makeup done and selecting the items I’d wear, which required some negotiation and compromise on both our parts. The shoot itself was pretty easy, fun and fast. I was so distracted by my photographer that I was not able to focus on anything other than being in the moment and it was over before I knew it.
On my long drive home I couldn’t stop thinking about being topless in front of a stranger. How my silhouette would look against each background, which was no bigger than a cubby. Lying on my back with my legs open outside of the bed room… things related to the shoot itself. But then it was, did I look fat? Did my photographer really have my best interest at heart? How much editing would she need to do to make me look sexy? I was also grateful to myself for my ability to keep a secret and was happy only two other people knew about the shoot. That way if the pictures didn’t turn out well I’d easily be able to just pretend it never happened.
But the pictures did turn out well. Better than well. And with almost no editing (only 11 or 78 photos were edited). A week later as I stare at my pictures I was speechless! I saw someone who was pretty, attractive, desirable, confident… all things I didn’t actually feel during the shoot. The crazy part was looking at myself on the computer screen and even then being confused because what I saw was not how I saw myself. It still isn’t how I see myself.
I think the most interesting thing that came out of this is my awareness of how hard I am on myself. How self-deprecating I am. How obsessive I can be when it comes to my size. The crazy thing is most days I feel good about myself and love the woman I am. It’s not until there’s an event I need to dress up for, a vacation to a warm location I need to plan for or a clothing item I see that’s not available in my size that I crumble. Everything I’ve spent years building implodes in that one moment after I see someone in something I know I’m not supposed to wear or will never have the courage to wear. I was staring at myself thinking wow that girl looks sooo good, all the while not able to accept that girl was me. Crazy right?! I’ve been so brainwashed into believing standards of beauty are fixed and based on very rigid rules I have no say in that even when I recognize myself as beautiful I can’t accept it.
I still look at the pictures from time to time. I have one as my screen saver. A bit obnoxious but who gives a fuck! When I go to log in sometimes I find myself staring at the picture thinking about how I wish I really looked like that. The reality is that I do. I just still, even now, don’t see it. It’s both empowering and sad at the same time.
