This year I should have celebrated my 20th
Wedding Anniversary. Well, actually, I
did! I celebrated it in a way that I
haven’t ever celebrated an anniversary in my entire marriage – I did something
that I actually chose to do! OK, so my
marriage may have fallen apart slightly after our 19th anniversary
(I say fell apart, but really, I think I woke up from a 10 year long coma of
abuse and being taken for granted and treated like shit! So it wasn’t so much ‘fell apart’ as ‘I
fucking woke up!’). We never celebrated
our anniversary really. I think we only
really exchanged decent presents on our first year anniversary – after that it
was a card and a meal out or a trip to the pictures (if I was lucky); hardly
romantic on the ‘Officer and Gentleman’ scale.
So to celebrate MY new found confidence and refusal to be a
door mat any longer, I scoured Google for ways to commemorate my metamorphosis
into this mythical woman that I was slowly changing into. *insert image of the
German caterpillar from a Bugs Life*
Me!
A friend had mentioned that she’d
had a Boudoir Photo Shoot (i.e. letting a stranger take photos of you in your
undies in a drafty warehouse*). If ever
there was a more un-Julia-like thing to do – you would be hard pressed to find
it. I committed! I was also inspired by the recent transition
of Bruce Jenner into Caitlin Jenner. OMG
– the man was a beautiful woman! I have
NEVER looked as sexy as that in a photograph and I was BORN with all the
equipment that he has strived to obtain!
That was all the incentive I needed – I am never going to be as young as
I am today and I should celebrate who I am, how far I have come and my wobbly
bits that make me a woman!
The experience was slightly
surreal. I arrived with a bag of my
sluttiest underwear, Ralph’s MC jacket (I have never wanted to ‘impress’ someone
as much ever before, but I was feeling brave and wanted to shock him (as much
as a middle aged, cardigan wearing woman ever could shock a tough ‘Biker’ who’s lived a
life!), stockings and a Tutu. As I
unpacked my bottom drawer secrets, I felt like I was on the cookery show, 'Ready, Steady, Cook’. I explained to the
make-up artist that I had in my bag three, slightly past their sell by date,
floppy vegetables and a kilo of mince and I would like her to produce a 5
course degustation banquet, fit for a Queen WITH a dessert. She laughed.
I laughed. Sparkling wine was
consumed. The ice was broken and we were off!
I did lots of things that day
that I have never done (and if I’m honest, probably won’t attempt again!). I have a new found respect for models – it’s
tough holding things in, trying to make bones appear (cheek and collar), whilst
carrying out hair flicks in 6 inch heels and trying to look alluring whilst
attempting not to look like you’re holding in a fart. I pulled muscles in places I didn’t know I
had muscles! And I became a MASTER of
the ‘fake laugh’. Ha ha ha….. I fake
laughed like my life depended on it! Proper
‘head back, mouth open’ funniest joke in the world, fake laugh! I had to sniff my shoulder(!). Apparently, this was a tried and tested way
to make you appear sexy without trying too hard. I have to admit I felt vaguely ridiculous
doing this, but when I was instructed it was more of a feint, subtle sniff – as
if taking in a fine scent from the Chanel counter – rather than sniffing phlegm
after day 3 of the flu – I think I nailed it.
If you didn’t overthink it, it
was an enjoyable experience. I’d never
had my hair and make-up done and been the sole focus of a photoshoot. Even on my Wedding day, I’d slapped on my own
Max Factor and tried to camouflage the fact that I’d ripped out all my
eyelashes on my left eyelid two days earlier in ‘the Great Eyelash Curler Incident of 1995’. I tried to embrace the experience for what it
was; empowering, confidence boosting and a little indulgent.
If the photoshoot was nerve
wracking, viewing the images for culling was even worse. I was SO nervous. We all have this ‘utopia’ picture of the best
we can possibly look in our heads. I
guess mine was circa 1992 but with less perm and better clothes. I was directed to the velvet sofa with a
coffee and my images were projected onto a wall for my viewing pleasure. There is something quite confronting seeing
your boobs 2 feet tall, but from over 200 images, I culled them down to 17 that
I would look out without immediately shouting ‘NO’ and hating something in the
image. I tried to focus on the parts of
me that looked good. There were bones in
some of the photos (good bones – not that there’s a bad bone when you’re over
40 and the wrong side of ‘cuddly’), I especially liked the ones of me smelling
my body parts.
I now have three images in a
frame hanging in my house to be admired by visitors. OK, I’m not as thin as I could be and my
boobs look slightly like spaniels ears, but I look SO happy! I have the biggest, most open smile on my
face that I’ve seen in a very long time and that’s there for eternity.
I’m glad I did it and it’ll be
there forever on the Hallway landing; frightening burglars and reminding me of
what happy truly looks like.
Julia Jenner
* It wasn’t a warehouse, nor
drafty.
