I made a new friend the other weekend, and yesterday he made me a surprising offer. I was thanking him for introducing me to a couple of new writers and inspiring me to write more frequently, and he suggested that, as repayment, I could model for him sometime (he’s an amateur photographer). Nude.
Now, I don’t know what your reactions to this offer might be, but I almost stopped breathing. First of all, I haven’t known this man long, and he’s significantly older than I, and I’m not sure where our friendship stands on the gray line between ‘just friends’ and ‘awkward sexual attraction.’ But even disregarding my (and needless to say, my boyfriend’s) discomfort with the offer from a relationship standpoint, I was thrown by the revulsion I felt when I imagined standing naked in front of someone with a camera.
I’ve been working on the self-image / photos standoff for years. When I was fat, I almost never let anyone take photos of me, which actually cultivated an interest in photography on my end. Then when I lost the weight, I wanted to document my new size, but had difficulty asking people to take my picture after so many years of hiding behind the lens. When I did see pictures of myself, I was repulsed by the bingo wings and belly that were impossible to suck in or hide with a 3/4 turn to the camera. After those bits were nipped, I still refused to be shot from behind, because I couldn’t not see the thigh excess.
And now, I’ve finally had all the surgeries I promised myself, but I’ve still hit a wall on liking my body. There are a few photos of me in a bikini out there– I’ve even allowed the facebook tags to stand– but those have more to do with forcing myself to deal with the reality of documentation than they do with liking what I see.
Even though (or maybe because) I haven’t lost as much weight as I could have, as many people before and after me have, and even though I’ve had three surgeries to try to tuck it all back where it belongs, I still have a significant amount of excess skin hanging around. It’s not as obvious (which of course means it’s not as easy to surgically ‘fix’) as the belly, arms, and thighs were, but it’s certainly there. And it causes my lower body especially to look much less appealing than I’d like.
I don’t mean for people to think Shar Pei here, because it’s not an issue of rolls. Whereas rolls are at least smooth on their admittedly expansive surfaces, what I have going on is like cellulite on steroids. To the point of having what I not-so-affectionately call a ‘shelf’ over my butt. It’s like the skin wants to slide down to my ankles, but gets caught on the fat on my butt, hips, and outer thighs. This causes massive dimples, that are in fact more like craters, and a general lumpiness with which I’m increasingly unhappy.
So you can see why the thought of showing these waffle-batter haunches (not to mention push-up-less boobs!) to anybody would make me squirm. For some reason, maybe because of the way he reacts to said haunches, I don’t mind being naked in front of my boyfriend; in fact this whole nude photo thing has made me realize how amazing that fact is. But anybody else has to be either a total stranger in a land like brazil, or some other place where I can be guaranteed to never EVER see him again, or someone I trust as completely as I do my loving boyfriend (although I maintain that there’s something not quite right in his head, given how much he seems to actually like my naked body).
The long and short of it, then, is that I won’t be doing nude photos any time soon. I’d rather wait until I’ve at least finished my course of gym insanity and anti-cellulite creams (FatGirlSlim and Nivea Goodbye Cellulite work wonders if you’re not forgetful like me, and actually apply them twice a day), and maybe even tried this new VelaShape thing that’s getting so much buzz (but that’ll have to wait until I’ve made a little money). For now, I’ll stick to above-the-waist pics, with a few grudging full-bodies and even swimsuit shots allowed, as long as I have full deletion rights.
Thank God (or whomever) for the digital camera.
Now, I don’t know what your reactions to this offer might be, but I almost stopped breathing. First of all, I haven’t known this man long, and he’s significantly older than I, and I’m not sure where our friendship stands on the gray line between ‘just friends’ and ‘awkward sexual attraction.’ But even disregarding my (and needless to say, my boyfriend’s) discomfort with the offer from a relationship standpoint, I was thrown by the revulsion I felt when I imagined standing naked in front of someone with a camera.
I’ve been working on the self-image / photos standoff for years. When I was fat, I almost never let anyone take photos of me, which actually cultivated an interest in photography on my end. Then when I lost the weight, I wanted to document my new size, but had difficulty asking people to take my picture after so many years of hiding behind the lens. When I did see pictures of myself, I was repulsed by the bingo wings and belly that were impossible to suck in or hide with a 3/4 turn to the camera. After those bits were nipped, I still refused to be shot from behind, because I couldn’t not see the thigh excess.
And now, I’ve finally had all the surgeries I promised myself, but I’ve still hit a wall on liking my body. There are a few photos of me in a bikini out there– I’ve even allowed the facebook tags to stand– but those have more to do with forcing myself to deal with the reality of documentation than they do with liking what I see.
Even though (or maybe because) I haven’t lost as much weight as I could have, as many people before and after me have, and even though I’ve had three surgeries to try to tuck it all back where it belongs, I still have a significant amount of excess skin hanging around. It’s not as obvious (which of course means it’s not as easy to surgically ‘fix’) as the belly, arms, and thighs were, but it’s certainly there. And it causes my lower body especially to look much less appealing than I’d like.
I don’t mean for people to think Shar Pei here, because it’s not an issue of rolls. Whereas rolls are at least smooth on their admittedly expansive surfaces, what I have going on is like cellulite on steroids. To the point of having what I not-so-affectionately call a ‘shelf’ over my butt. It’s like the skin wants to slide down to my ankles, but gets caught on the fat on my butt, hips, and outer thighs. This causes massive dimples, that are in fact more like craters, and a general lumpiness with which I’m increasingly unhappy.
So you can see why the thought of showing these waffle-batter haunches (not to mention push-up-less boobs!) to anybody would make me squirm. For some reason, maybe because of the way he reacts to said haunches, I don’t mind being naked in front of my boyfriend; in fact this whole nude photo thing has made me realize how amazing that fact is. But anybody else has to be either a total stranger in a land like brazil, or some other place where I can be guaranteed to never EVER see him again, or someone I trust as completely as I do my loving boyfriend (although I maintain that there’s something not quite right in his head, given how much he seems to actually like my naked body).
The long and short of it, then, is that I won’t be doing nude photos any time soon. I’d rather wait until I’ve at least finished my course of gym insanity and anti-cellulite creams (FatGirlSlim and Nivea Goodbye Cellulite work wonders if you’re not forgetful like me, and actually apply them twice a day), and maybe even tried this new VelaShape thing that’s getting so much buzz (but that’ll have to wait until I’ve made a little money). For now, I’ll stick to above-the-waist pics, with a few grudging full-bodies and even swimsuit shots allowed, as long as I have full deletion rights.
Thank God (or whomever) for the digital camera.
Comments
ICKY ICKY OO
anyway i am pretty sure this guy's legit, and just wanted a model. and he's not a writer, actually. he's more useful as a contact than that. plus i just have fun with him, so i'm not overreacting.
P.S. "Research Assistant" is me.