Feeling fine in one's own skin...and nothing else.

A strange thing happened to me on the way to the photography studio on Sunday - I actually got comfy being in my own skin.  Finally.  Only took me 39 years.

As a child I was told that coming out of the bath totally nude wasn't proper and that the Virgin Mary herself was blushing in shame.  Then, there's this American Culture that is so Victorian in principle that unless you are totally covered all the time, there's a problem with YOU.

Going to the pool each Summer left me a bit confused.  During the Summer months, why, it was fine to wear two-pieces with straps everywhere when if my skirt at private school was too short I got yelled at?  I never enjoyed Summer that much due to this weird skin showing that I had always been told was totally wrong. 

I'm not talking about the girls who walk around like looking like hookers or who are deliberately wearing outfits that are inappropriate for where they are at, I'm simply talking about normal girls who got so freaked out about showing any skin that when the hot weather rolls around, we get a bit confused and uncomfortable.

Strapless?  Skinny straps?  Off the shoulder?  Mini anything?  Low back?  Plunging front?  Um, not for me.  Turtlenecks, large sweaters, dark tights, thick/toe hiding shoes, long sleeves - that was me!

Of course being primarily raised within the confines of the Roman Catholic realm with nuns who dressed all buttoned up didn't help, either.  It just left me more confused.

So, fast forward to this year.  I'm 39.  I've just signed up - like some of my more daring friends - to do a professional photo shoot with a professional female photographer.  Some of the pics she does are pretty much 100% nude.  It's up to you, but they are the most artistic and most stunning photos I've ever seen of the female form.

She's amazing, her work is more amazing and what she did to those women to make their photos so full of beauty and a celebration of the human form just made me want to sign up.  I saw more photos one day and decided that I needed to do this before I turn 40 next year.  Just for fun!

The second I turned in  my deposit I got scared.  I'm too old to be doing photos like this!  I'm not skinny enough.  I have scars! I'm not pretty enough.  I cannot bare this much skin!  No nudity!  What would the nuns think???  The other gals I know who did this are much younger than me...and primp more than I do, keep themselves up better.

I kept up this 'negative tape' in my  head and even in speaking to my friends who knew about it for months.  Before I knew it, my appointment was here.  I was in the chair getting my makeup done by two, younger, very beautiful ladies who were making my face photo ready and fluffing my hair. 

When they were done I looked really cleaned up - polished - and ready to be 'shot'. 

My photographer met me in the salon and we moved into the studio where the props were set up.  I had seen a lot of her pictures and could see the backdrops she used, extra stuff around the room and of course, I had brought some of my own 'props' just in case we needed to hide my backside or something!

She casually looks over at me as I survey the room and says "So, do we want to do the nude photos first?"

I couldn't believe what I did next - I totally disrobed - and waited.  Waited for the negative thoughts in my head to start - waited for some type of guilt or something to happen.

Nothing. 

Feeling this comfortable in my own skin - with another human being in the room or not - was something I had never experienced before.  Of course, I am married, and my husband has seen me, oh - a few times - in the past 15 years (LOL!) but that's a bit different.  But even then, I find that sometimes I hold back for these weird reasons that I grew up with.

That day in the studio, I felt empowered.  Graceful.  Amazing, and yes, even pretty.

We did all the photos we could - and boy, it was tiring.  I have a lot more respect for models now.  That's hard work - thank goodness I stretch and do Yoga or else I'd be in some serious pain this morning.

The cool part was that although I did get to see some of the hundreds of pictures she took after the fact, I really didn't need to SEE them.  I felt like a million bucks anyways - and still feel that way today - and will for a while, I'm sure.

What do they say - "Do what you fear and watch it disappear?" - wow, is that ever true.

the white roses from today

Of French Toast and Flowers

This Friday was eagerly awaited by my sanity due to the rupture of a week I had. The simple rupture has become a full blown lifequake on the workie poo side of life with a little overflow to my personal life. Today was sooo eagerly awaited that I jumped out of bed this morning in my beloved Luluemons and am still wearing them at work.

We have a tradition in our household that states Friday is French Toast day. No matter what's going on or how sick I may be sometimes, we've gotta have French Toast on the table. It gets my 9 year old son going on 16 out of bed pretty quick, gets him fed and he thinks it's truly special - just for him. He brags to his friends about it so much that they say 'when I go over to your house, can you make that French Toast?'

I whipped up the most faboo French Toast a mother at 730am can do, piled it on a fresh plate (fresh from the dishwasher!) and VOILA! Wait, where's the KID? Normally, he's already here chanting for his breaky-poo.

"Justin!? Where are you?" I call out, trying not to wake up my hubby.

"Putting on my shoes!" I hear from the back room. That explains a lot. What is it with boys and shoes? He's got like, two shoes plus his baseball cleats. How HARD is this? If it were ME, then putting on shoes would take like a half an hour. I'm a girl, you know.

Five more minutes go by. I decide to investigate.

My son is on the floor of his room, fully dressed, with clothes all around him, trying to tie his shoes on one foot while the other shoe has been unsuccessfully crammed onto his other foot. I fix the disaster with him because he's got 34 seconds to get to the bus and eat his breakfast.

I get him to the table as his backpack, papers, toys and only God knows what else is living in his backpack spills all over the floor.

Sitting on the chair next to him as he cuts up his Friday French Toast he says "Well, I guess you're driving me to school today, mom." I have to laugh at my child. Instead of the French Toast being the motivation anymore, it's become getting me to drive him to school on Fridays.

There's only two more weeks of school, so I don't press it. I smile at him and say '15 minutes, that's what you've got, then I'm outta here with or without you'.

After getting JP to his school with his stomach full of French Toastie Goodness, it's off to workie poo I go. Given superpowers by my newly purchased Starbucks soy latte, half-caf, I enter the realm of chaos empowered by the thought that I have, in fact, reached Friday almost totally intact with a stomach full of Friday French Toast and a son on time to school.

At work someone brings in some homegrown antique roses for the staff. All at once, everything melts away and these simple, delicate cream colored roses - tinged in pink and peach tones on their tips - fill the offices with their fragrance of springtime. I feel like I'm outside or in a fine garden that is very well kept up.

Sometimes it's the little things that really count - like these flowers on the edge of a frantic and unwelcome busy week. They help put things into perspective a bit, and give us the feeling that we are outdoors, even for a second. The flowers make us stop and breathe in, appreciating life itself and thanking God for everything, the beautiful, the chaotic and even for French Toast/Driving JP to school Fridays like this.

I'm back...

Thanks to Jo starting her blog up again and doing all of her writing novels and such, here I am, writing when I can between work, kids, hubby, the military and my paintings.

I think I need MORE to do.

"Anything that is impossible is fun to do" - Walt Disney

...or something like that...That pretty much sums up my Woodstock week and weekend that finally ended on Mother's Day - around dinnertime.

She's DONE. I have photos, and I promise, I will post.

Next year? Ugh, not unless I grow three more arms before then. I can't understand what or how the artists who did up to three statues this year were thinking...they finished when I did...amazing!!!

The family has a cold and a major temperature going on and I'm so sleep deprived that it's like I had another Justin. A hangover indeed.

More to come as soon as I gather myself off the floor...love!!!