I have become somewhat of a radical in the past few years – this blog has made me a strong proponent of freedom of sexual expression, lack of restriction on one’s private bedroom (backseat? shower? kitchen counter?) activities and embracing all aspects of the beauty and potential of the human body.
Admittedly, I have a long way to go in terms of accepting the beauty of my own naked form. I lost about 90 pounds, have gained about 15 pounds back and alternate between shaming myself for the gain, and then shaming myself for the shaming. Being a feminist can be such a trial sometimes. However, along this journey, I discovered a revelation of individuals who do nude modelling. And while I haven’t quite hit the stage where I’m willing to show every single one of my pink parts (and I may never reach that point) I have done a series of topless sets.
Needless to say (though here I *am* saying it), this has been an empowering, humbling and hilarious experience in a number of unexpected ways.
I fully anticipated getting to know a group of wonderful individuals who would be graceful and encouraging and interesting. Check.
I expected that there would be some haters out there, and that if/when my family ever stumbled across this activity, it would be uncomfortable and challenging. Check.
I expected that I would find the shoots themselves to be awkward, but also worthwhile in the end. Check.
What I didn’t expect?
To be approached on my “model” facebook account to do female wrestling – because I have an “edgy” look.
To be on a float in a parade and have my photos up on a slide show at a dance party in a bar.
To find myself completely neutral and unaffected taking off my clothes in front of a male photographer I barely know.
I have made some wonderful friends that have encouraged me to explore different aspects of sensuality, as one is a tantric healer. I have also learned to explore vegan cooking as one model is…well a vegan. Duh. Importantly, I have learned to re-consider my usage of pronouns as there are some trans models, and some models who do not identify with any specific gender identity. And perhaps most important of all, I have come to view women in a completely new and unexpected way – I am much more of a 3 on the Kinsey scale than I originally thought.
And the hilarity? Well I really didn’t expect that songsa would consider “stripper music” to be Warrant’s Cherry Pie. My shoot a couple weeks back had a 20’s/flapper theme to it – so I suggested the photographer play Patricia the Stripper to set the tone. Apparently that’s not how songsa works, and the best I could get was eighties hair bands. It set a tone alright…though I’m entirely certain just what tone it was… Less Charleston, more head banging. Still – at least it lightened the mood. While I wasn’t uncomfortable with the photographer, I was still stiff and awkward. It’s not quite as easy to look good while having your photos taken than you would think.
That shoot was my first in an actual photographer’s studio with a set and lights and well…people walking in and out. My other sets had been either at my place or someone else’s. He took 500+ shots and whittled them down to 130ish that I looked at today. I was dreading it to be honest – I had begun to wonder if sexiness was something I could only pull off in the bedroom – ya know, while actually *being* sexual? I even tried mentally seducing the photographer while posing. Could I pose for him? Turn him on while caressing my breasts? Rubbing feathers across my nipples? Arouse him with my pouty lips and bedroom eyes? Fail. Sadly, I didn’t want him at all. And he of course was the consummate professional, going out of his way to try to make me comfortable.
And while I didn’t exactly feel seduced by myself when looking them over (does that ever actually happen?) all in all they weren’t that bad.
An utterly different experience than the photos I let Gawain take of me while fellating him the other night to be sure. I wonder how “sexy” I looked in those pictures? I imagine staring head on into a lens with a cock in my mouth is a distracting kind of explictness. Is that sexy or gratuitous? Depends on the audience I suppose. Perhaps Gawain and I would find them titillating in memory. But would the viewer prefer to look at me with a penis resting against my cheek or me sensually rubbing a feather boa against my breasts?
In any case, I am working to come to terms with my body, my sexual expression and my comfort with all of it. And the photo sessions are helping – and I’m positively dying to model the bustier I bought the other day for an aborted gothic set (darn Winter weather) – my breasts look awesome in it!