I am my own worst critic when it comes to my body.
I’ve wasted years conducting daily appraisals in the mirror and cruelly judging my trouble areas.
(“You could rest a teacup on that stomach roll!")
Koren Reyes
I listed the pros in my head: (1) I’d be forced to face my fears.
(2) I’d be extra motivated to work out and eat well leading up to the shoot.
(4) It would be an adventure.
Koren Reyes
It was a risk, but one I decided I was willing to take.
I had to psych myself upfor months before calling the photographer, a woman named Koren Reyes.
Female bodies of all ages and sizes are beautiful.”
Yes, well, of course.
Still, I had to ask: “Have you ever photographed any, um, larger women?”
“I worked with someone who was well over 200 pounds.
And the pictures were great,” she said.
I almost asked for that promise in writing.
We set a date for six weeks hence.
But mostly, I tried not to think about the upcoming project much, other than as a lark.
I gulped, horrified that other people would be there, watching the process.
Weird concerns ran through my head.
What if I suddenly got my period?
What if I broke out with bacne?
To combat my fears, I did my very best to make myself presentable the day before the event.
I depilated my legs, arms, belly, chin, upper lip, eyebrows and armpits.
I removed all toe and fingernail polish (I was going for a natural look).
I exfoliated and moisturized myself.
Koren herself was also trim and stylish, exuding an air of professional competence.
Then I walked out into the studio, a cavernous space with umbrella lights.
Though the room was cold, I immediately started to sweat.
Koren, camera in hand, asked me to stand on the seamless.
Maggie tested the lighting.
And then Koren directed me to lose the bathrobe.
This was virgin territory.
I love locker roomsthey showcase the diversity of the female formbut I don’t linger in them.
I’d never been fully, flagrantly nude for more than five minutes before other women.
Now I was starkers in front of threeand would be for several hours.
I took a deep breath, paused and shrugged off my robe.
I wasn’t expecting applause but something other than dead silence would have been nice.
I nearly said, “Hello!
A kind word needed!”
And just like my clothes, we were off.
Then again, convincing me of my own attractiveness was not Koren’s job.
It was mine, one I’d failed at chronically.
Was my ego so weak that I couldn’t survive without the benefit of idle puffery?
And the more I relaxed, the more Koren demanded of me.
Her goals were to help me feel comfortable and take the best shots possible.
And despite the fact that I was naked, the atmosphere was also decidedly nonsexual.
As the day progressed, I even began to believe that I could achieve pulchritude.
For one pose, Yuko arranged my hair so the curls draped suggestively over my shoulder.
Maggie said an emphatic, “Nice!”
and I experienced a veritable I-feel-pretty moment.
I compared that with my daily scrutiny in the mirror, how I inevitably zeroed in on the ugly.
Next time, I vowed, I would look at myself with a more generous, artistic eye.
“But after 10 minutes,” I said, “I saw the humor in it.
How could rolling around on the floor in the buff be anything but funny?”
Unless, that is, the pictures ended up being awful; then the whole enterprise would be tragic.
In about half of them, I looked downright cute.
In a dozen, I would call myself hot.
But it struck me then that thin does not necessarily equal hot.
Hot does not necessarily equal thin.
The range of thin is narrow.
The universe of hot is vast and ever-expanding.
My husband loved the pictures.
“Most models look pissed off or mean,” he said.
“You look sexy in a completely nonthreatening way.
You look like you had a good time.”
I realized I had.
A great time, actually.
I pored over the photos for days, discounting the deflated beach ball and pancake shots as bad angles.
With so many better angles to choose from, the unflattering ones hardly mattered.
I wasI amlearning to edit, both my photo portfolio and my critical thoughts.
Except lately my critical chatter has been barely audible.
The photos have helped turn me away from the negative and toward the positive.
Of course, these were right before my eyes all along, beauty hiding in plain sight.
Only now, I can finally see it.
