earlier this month, ann wrote a post pondering boudoir pics and in my comment i stated she should just do it! she wouldn’t regret it! etc. etc. blah blah and then i was stupid enough to say “maybe i’ll post one of mine” and blog about it. oh good lord, why didn’t i just stfu?!
here’s the deal. anyone that’s followed this blog or stumbled upon my tumblr or dear god, knows who i am or reads my every day professional blog; in my professional, platonic personal and philanthropic life, i’m strong, dependable, assertive, etc. the classic a-type overachiever. in my internal dialogue and romantic life i’ve got body image issues related to my weight that i’ve discovered goes back to before i was even a kindergartener.
but, about 4 years ago i started to accept my body for what it is, what it looks like and acknowledge that no matter how physically active i am, very, or how much i diet, my body is what it is. unless of course i’m willing to fork over way too much money to go under the knife. which i am not. even as i began to dress differently, with confidence, less oversize and baggy yet still very much me, my dh couldn’t see beyond what has long been an issue between us, my weight. i believed the words, his words, and instead of curves i just saw rolls of fat. instead of cute freckles i saw uneven spots, instead of soft, natural breasts i saw too large, too soft “more than a mouthful” breasts. until i met him.
before he even undressed me, we were sitting in the restaurant discussing the day. the time between our meeting in the late afternoon before his presentation and the time right in front of us when he said “i like that you’re wearing a red bra.” i blushed, how would he know that, before looking down and realizing that the strap was slightly askew and just this side of the green and white strap of my blouse, therefore peeking out where my sweater had fallen from my shoulder. you have no idea how much that made me moist. why? because for three years leading up to that moment two years ago i was wearing matching bras and panties, in colors, prints and styles in the hopes that my dh would notice. oh sure he noticed. noticed enough to either say: “why do you even bother? lingerie on you doesn’t look good so it doesn’t do anything for me” or “i don’t know why you spend money on matching lingerie. it’s not like i care.” *sigh*
through his eyes i began to believe that maybe, just maybe, i am a plus size gal with curves and not just rolls of fat. maybe the words that others have said to me my entire life, the words that i dismissed as fake flattery or biased because they were my friends might be true.
i wanted my dh to see me. really see me. and so i decided that self-consciousness and self-doubt be damned, i’m going to do a boudoir shoot and present dh with the album for his 50th birthday. it took me a few more months to get the courage up to book the appointment and i toured a few studios in the area. sure that i would back out if i didn’t have a little skin, no pun intended, in the game, i booked sessions at two different studios with very different styles, artistically.
ironically, the pics from the studio that i was the most excited about, that edgier more hip vibe were the ones i liked the least. i wasn’t overly made up but i don’t look comfortable in the poses. and the studio that is more of a bridal studio, where i had a traditional make-up session (i don’t wear make up in general) are the one’s that made me *gasp* and the tear up when i saw them. is that really me? i mean, minus the eye make-up, of course.
and so, i gingerly took the book into my possession and wrapped it up along with the other items selected for dh’s birthday and tucked it away until the big day…
would he like them? i hoped so.