I am an exhibitionist. This isn’t something that I’ve been too cognizant of for most of my life. In fact, it seems somewhat counter-intuitive, because I go out of my way NOT to be noticed. Ever since high school, when I endured a major trauma and just wanted to disappear, I’ve tried to NOT draw the eyes of strangers or friends.
When I get my hair cut or colored differently, I hate it when people comment on it. When I lost a lot of weight, I shied away from those who hadn’t seen me in a while, just to avoid the comments about my new look. I don’t wear heavy make-up or revealing clothing. (Okay, not usually.) I tend to go through life quietly, glad when people’s eyes pass over me without a second glance.
Yet, there is a part of me that craves the eyes of strangers. I have ignored that part my entire life. It just didn’t seem safe, or even plausible, that I could make others notice me in a positive way. But it is there. I’ve noticed it more and more this past year.
My husband, K, and I are on a sexual journey. We’re discovering new things about each other and are reveling in the experiences. We’ve tried a lot of new things so far, and for the most part, we’ve really enjoyed them. Each new experience causes us to stop and reflect. Sometimes the reflection only lasts for a few hours, as we decide that we really liked whatever new thing we had just tried. (Ropes! I just discovered that I absolutely LOVE the way my body looks when it’s all tied up. Wow!)
Sometimes the reflections take a bit longer to absorb. My boudoir photo shoot was one of these experiences. I went to the photography studio on the day of my appointment, apprehensive and nervous on the drive there. I had to drive an hour to get to the studio, located in the nearest big city to my little town. I didn’t wear panties or a bra – no lines pressed into the skin. So I drove there, in a t-shirt and skirt, nervous yet excited. Okay, maybe I pulled the skirt up a bit higher as I drove. Getting in the mood, right?
When I walked into the studio, something amazing happened. My nerves disappeared. It was like this was something I had waited my whole life to do. I got my make-up done, chose the outfits I planned to wear, and then, after a deep breath, told the photographer that I wanted some of the photos to be completely nude.
If you read my last blog, you know the part of the shoot that I had the most trepidations about was having my face photographed. Somehow, I managed to let those fears go away. It felt completely natural to walk around this studio, in and out of different rooms, wearing, first, a bustier, panties, stockings, and heels; then a leather skirt and heels; then a chain thong that was TOTALLY revealing; then, no clothing at all. I wasn’t shy, or embarrassed, or nervous, or anything. I just felt sexy. It was amazing.
Not all of the photos were great. I hated one entire set, because the lipstick that the make-up girl used on me for those shots really washed my face out and made me look hideous. But most of the photographs were great, and the ones I loved the most? Those of me completely nude, lying on the bed. I loved the thought of eyes on me as I lay on my back and posed in different positions.
I can’t get over how pretty my face looks in these pictures. I’m simply blown away by the fact that I’m pretty. I think that in a few of the photos, I’m even beautiful. I don’t know how to whisper a word that I type – smaller font will have to show that I’m scared to even speak that word out loud. I don’t think I’m beautiful on most days. On most days, I don’t even think I’m pretty. But in those pictures? I am.
We picked out the photos to go in the booklet that we’re getting. And I got 2 separate photos, close-ups of my face, to remind myself that I too, can be pretty. Perhaps even beautiful.
subtractingvanilla 