Fat Woman Taking Erotic Photos-Scratch That: Let's Go with....Woman Taking Photos Celebrating Her Body
Disgusted with my fat rolls that prominently hung over my hips, disgruntled with my gut that graciously protruded and repulsed by my pendulous breasts that have lost so much firmness and roundness I snapped a picture in sheer frustration and anger in the unflattering, bright dressing room lights. Everything I had tried on brought me closer to a break down. To say I struggle with my self-image is an understatement. Couple that with trying to find some articles of clothing that I could wear to feel 'sexy' or confident in front of a camera left me spiraling out of control and shaking with anxiety and chiding myself for thinking that I was even remotely ready to have photos documenting this mess of me.
My eyes were glued to the image on the phone.
There I was, shirtless with exposed saggy breasts, skin bunched in my abdomen, and a defeated frown on my face with tears threatening to fall in my glistening eyes. I hit 'send' to my photographer with whom I had a session scheduled with in a couple days, just knowing he would not be able to work with a subject like me.
I was positive he would tell me there was no way I would want to document this part of my life, I just KNEW he would tell me that he would be affronted by my body and that I took up too much space explaining there was no way he could continue with the session, I was definite that he would tell me to lose more weight before even considering doing a photo shoot.
Staring at my reflection....I put my clothes back on slowly, anxiously awaiting a return text.
Within minutes he replied, explaining it was okay to be nervous and that we weren't cancelling. He assured me he saw nothing wrong with the subject matter I presented to him in the photo.
Still, I wondered if he was just placating me, I wondered if he needed a new prescription for his glasses, I wondered if my body was worthy enough to be photographed....then I wondered...would I treat anyone else's body the way I was treating mine?
Never in a million years would I talk about or treat anyone else's body the way I was treating mine. And, I was treating myself disrespectfully, rudely and ignoring every beautiful mark, scar and oddity that was present.
Why in the hell was I focusing on simply any 'negative' attribute? Why was I acting like fat was the antithesis of beauty? Why did I forget that the whole reason I was doing this was because I was working on falling back in love with myself, with my body?
Honestly, I was tearing myself apart because I was comparing my body to someone else's...anybody else's. I was upset I did not look like another woman, I was frantic that my fat would frame me in the frumpiest of ways unlike the professional plus size models who are perfectly put together, I was nervous that I would be told that my beauty that I have fought so hard to see these last few years did not exist. But...the only person who was telling me that false narrative....was myself.
If we are focusing solely on physicality, yes, I now consider myself semi-attractive, probably about half to the majority of the days of my existence. WHICH, may not seem like much to you...but I lived in a dark place for most of my life where most days I could not stand to look at my reflection, let alone...begin to love myself. Some people think it's because I have lost a substantial amount of weight that I am now accepting my beauty, but...that has nothing to do with it. The journey with loving myself, loving my body, cherishing portions of me...began way before that. It began with me realizing that I did not deserve anyone else appraising my value. It began with me understanding that I was wonderfully and fearfully made. Thanks to some pretty intensive therapy, removing toxic people from my life and relearning how to think about my body...I began to see that I was never ugly.
If we are focusing on beauty which I consider a mixture of physical and personality....I would say I love myself. My body has accomplished so many amazing feats, physically, emotionally and spiritually, it would be asinine to think of her anything else than a warrior. HOW DARE I TREAT HER LESS THAN ANYTHING BUT THE QUEEN THAT SHE IS. Shame on me for forgetting that my body deserves the love that I give everyone else. The only person who sets standards for how one is treated....is ourselves so I needed to put myself in check when the self-deprecating and rude monologue begins.
So. I had no choice.
I had to go to the photo shoot.
I wasn't a fat woman taking photographs. I wasn't a plus size model. I wasn't a disgusting amalgamation of loose skin, acne, and scars taking up too much space. I was simply a person wanting to celebrate her body and feel pretty for a moment in time.
Unapologetically, I took up space
I was nervous. I was sassy. I was lippy.
I was playful. I was coy. I had a smirk that could not be taken off my face. I was proud of myself for going....for continuing to go on when I did not want to...to that photo-shoot...and for continuing years before when I was certain this world did not need my presence.
I left my comfort zone.
I remembered that comfort zones...are just cushy, boring places that prohibit people from adapting, changing and moving forward onto their next adventure. Being comfortable...isn't that comforting though. How sad would it be if we just lived our lives not wanting to grow, not hungering for new knowledge, refusing to see ourselves in different perspectives...? Comfortable....can be boring.
Thankfully, I realized that this life, like me, is too beautiful to be boring and that I should capture every moment I can to celebrate myself at each leg of my journey.
Special thanks to Joe from Reptile Geek (<<<---link to Insta there) for snapping some photos of an anxious gal...and for not letting me cancel.