I'm lovely, and I have the photos to prove it!

Satisfyingly blurry!

First things first, Martin J Patterson is a genius…not only did this unassuming man in his shorts and t-shirt persuade me, in the most professional way, of the efficacy of a boudoir shoot, he also managed to produce a portfolio of photos that I not only love, but have agreed to him sharing wherever he likes. 

I have now completed the final part of my boudoir journey. For me it’s been quite a trek, and you can read about how I arrived here in my first, second and third posts in this series. What started out as being, frankly, a bit of a cheeky joke has turned into so much more than that and I genuinely feel that I have travelled some distance in how I feel about myself and about how others see me.

I wasn’t sure how I would react to seeing the photos. It’s been quite a while since the shoot and at times it seems as if I’d dreamt it. I was a bit apprehensive, but nowhere near as much as I thought I would be, and that was coupled with a little bit of excitement. 

My biggest fear was that I would hate my pictures, but have to pretend that I liked them for the sake of the project.

I love them!

I needn’t have worried - somehow Martin had succeeded in taking photographs that were not only classy and tasteful, but that magically drew my eye to my best bits. No photoshopping involved (the stupid tan line on my wrist proves that!) and yet I could look at them and feel genuinely happy with how I appear. And that is something I never thought I would think, let alone write! My husband loved them too, and I happily showed my son, his girlfriend and my stepson. I also shared them with my friend The Salted Tail, my sister and my daughter. My friend and sister duly raved about them, but Beth just asked if I was pleased with them. My mind then went into overdrive - she doesn't like them, so maybe I don’t either. They must be tacky / cheesy / unattractive. Rats. How could I have got it so wrong? I really thought they were nice. 

Of course, she did like them, but was in the pub, and couldn't really look at them. Phew. I hadn't got it wrong after all.

Beth's favourite!

How ridiculous…I clearly worry so much about what other people think that I change my views to match theirs. That definitely needs to change.

So, apart from me not being confident in my own opinions, what else have I learnt from this exciting, yet strange and surreal experience?

Well, on a superficial level I found out how to do smokey eye make-up, I discovered how much more comfortable a properly fitting bra is and I know that making time to moisturise after a shower reaps many benefits! I also realised that I enjoy spending time on making the best of myself, and I still use my eyelash curler!

Smokey eyes and a hint of a smile - hubby's favourite ❤️

On a more profound level I have uncovered some truths about myself and even about my husband. I wasn’t expecting it to have such an effect on him and I suppose we have come to a realisation that we both have insecurities that impact on us and our relationship. But this experience has given us an opportunity to explore some of those issues and talk openly about them. 

More personally I have come to realise that I feel judged by people because I judge them - another thing I need to work on - and I wouldn’t have felt anywhere near as comfortable with a female photographer, because I often feel that woman are more critical of other woman than men are.

Daring, or foolhardy?

When I wrote my original posts people made comments about how brave I was. Personally I think that firemen and lifeboatmen are brave, and while I certainly found this personally challenging, I think daring is a more accurate description of what I am. That, and foolhardy!

Most importantly of all I feel far more at peace with myself than I have for many years. The fact that I blithely signed away sharing rights to the photos proves that. I am proud of how I look in my pictures, and am determined to no longer define myself by my age, my weight, my appearance. I am who I am, and Martin has skilfully reflected this in my boudoir portfolio!

Not defined by age or shape - just me, in sharp focus!

When we went to bed last night, my lovely husband turned to me and said, ‘So now do you believe me when I say you are lovely?’ It’s only taken eighteen years, but finally, yes I do.

I survived!

So I survived! More than survived, I enjoyed it! Of course, I am referring to my boudoir shoot.

I probably need to rewind to the very beginning. If you've read my previous blogs (here ...and here) on this topic, you’ll have guessed that ‘boudoir shoot’ wasn’t top of my bucket list. It had never even crossed my mind until a friend shared a post on Facebook.

Where it all started...

It was from a photographer, Martin J Patterson, asking for female bloggers, living locally, to take part in a boudoir project. I normally wouldn't have given it a second look, except that this friend (you know who you are!) had tagged my fellow blogger, dear friend and extremely beautiful The Salted Tail! Not me. Despite the fact that I am also female, also local and also a blogger. It is fair to say I got the proverbial hump.

Has Nanny got the hump, Granddad?

I thought about it for a bit, spoke to my blogger friend who screamed ‘DO IT!’, and messaged Martin. Then told my husband… The rest, as they say, is history.

I have already shared, in unblushingly honest terms, my feelings building up to the shoot, but nothing prepared me for how nervous I would feel when the day finally arrived. To say that I was like a bear with a sore head is an understatement - no one could talk to me without me snarling a reply, and the phrase ‘silk purse out of a sow’s ear’ kept playing in my head as I did my hair and make up. 

Of course my eyes looked like this...

At this point I should own up to having watched Youtube tutorials on ‘smokey eyes for the older woman’ and buying more make up in the last week than I have in the last five years! I took a selfie to send to my daughter but deleted it immediately, deeming it to be just too hideous. I sat, bra-less, watching Wimbledon, thinking, ‘What have I done?’ in an anguished internal voice…

Then Martin arrived, and slowly but surely my fears dissipated. He talked me through what to expect, how the session would work and gave me some tips on how to pose. My sister was acting as my chaperone, although at times she mistook ‘chaperone’ for ‘court jester’, pulling faces, provocatively sucking her finger or just being daft.

We have trouble taking each other seriously!

In the end I had to send her out of my line of vision because I couldn't keep a straight face, and I actually found I was taking posing quite seriously! 

I think poor Martin may have regretted his decision to shoot a more mature woman, as he realised that their joints don't move in quite the same way as a younger person’s! Pretty soon his instructions were prefaced with ‘If you can…’ We did laugh though, and I felt surprisingly relaxed with it all.

Exactly

Because Martin was the consummate professional, it didn't feel uncomfortable or awkward - all the things I was dreading, like laying on a bed wearing not very much, looking into a camera, being the focus of attention for over an hour, just weren’t a problem. Me, being me, overcatered (just ask anyone whose been to one of my BBQs!) - I only wore one lot of the underwear I bought and an old shirt - but in the end none of it mattered, and, if I’m completely honest, I was quite disappointed when the shoot finished.

Looking back it all seems quite surreal. I know my husband felt really uncomfortable about it, and admitted to feeling sick the whole time the shoot was happening. This has led me to question what made me pursue it. I love my husband very much and regret having unsettled him to such an extent. The truth is, since I retired I’ve felt increasingly invisible. When you have nowhere specific to go you make less of an effort with your appearance. I’m lucky enough to be married to a man who adores me regardless, but equally who fails to notice when I do put on some slap or a new top. So for a while it was nice to be the focus of attention, to feel that my appearance mattered - to buy new things, to bother to moisturise, to learn new make up techniques. It reminded me of how I felt just before my wedding when, despite insisting otherwise, I really wanted to look like a princess. 

I really felt like a princess!

Some people may think that makes me shallow, but surely you can be attractive, make the best of yourself and still be a worthy person. I’m going to try, anyhow.

As to whether I felt empowered by the experience…well, I face-timed my daughter and felt a bit more comfortable with how I looked in the corner of the screen, I am seriously thinking about buying a new swimsuit and I woke up this morning feeling just a little bit happier in my own skin. 

All this, and I haven't seen the photos yet…of course they could make a difference to how I feel, but somehow I don't think so. And I do promise to share - some of them, anyway!

As a footnote, I must be feeling more youthful. Last night I dreamt I was 41 and pregnant! 😯 

Run, Jillikins, Run!: Cheap Thrill #9

Run, Jillikins, Run!

I have never been able to run. When I was a child, I suppose I could, but as an adult, never. Even as a teenager I viewed cross country lessons at school as a good opportunity to take the art teacher’s dog for a walk.

So it may come as something of a surprise to you that I have chosen running as this week’s Cheap Thrill. 

Two years ago I was searching for a way of getting fit, having lost some weight but knowing that I still wasn't particularly healthy. I discovered the Couch to 5K programme and thought I’d give it a go.  I used the treadmill at work and slowly began to discover that I could run. I even took part in a couple of Park Runs, although I have to say I didn't particularly enjoy them - as soon as I’m with other people, I put myself under pressure to keep up, forgetting that most of them are under 40, and I’m, well, not!

As with many ventures, life got in the way, and pressure of time meant that I could only realistically run once a week. This led to my fitness levels dropping, and I stopped enjoying it and then - I just stopped.

So pink!

I was determined that, once I retired, I would start to run again, and dusted off my trainers, my lycra (!) and my podcasts. I have determinedly run three times a week, starting from the beginning of the 9 week Couch to 5K programme. And this morning I completed it! Woohoo! OK, strictly speaking, for me it’s more like Couch to 4.2K, but I can now run, non- stop, for 30 minutes.

The great thing is that now I can continue to run three times a week, without feeling that I should be doing something else. Maybe retirement isn’t so bad after all!

I have a strange relationship with running, in that I enjoy it most when I stop, but it gives me a chance to challenge myself, clear my head, think about random things to blog about, say ‘Good morning’ to lots of dog walkers, and occasionally overtake a mobility scooter!

Go for it - you might like it!Couch to 5K

So if you think you can’t run, but feel you’d like to try, give Couch to 5K a go - you may surprise yourself. I know I have.

So there we have it this week’s Cheap Thrill. 

Cheap? Certainly, if you have a pair of trainers, the podcasts are free to download and really supportive.

It's lovely when you stop!

Thrilling? Yes, when you stop! And exercising regularly means that I get to eat cake and drink gin - oh, the joy!

Searching for my Feet....

Well, the dust is beginning to settle. After the parties, flowers, balloons and the glorious trip to the Crown and Castle in Orford, that my husband treated me to, I'm feeling a bit lost. 

My daughter has just arrived home for a week, bringing me a box of lovely goodies to use in all my newly acquired free time, but I am simply unable to get my head around the fact that, should I decide to do nothing at all for the rest of my days, there is no-one that can tell me that I have to. Whilst I am sure that concerned family and friends would gently encourage me to engage in exciting activities, like washing, eating, getting out of bed, they do not have the power to sanction me with disciplinary proceedings, or by ultimately withdrawing my pension!

This means that from now on, I will have to be self-motivated and self-disciplined. Scary… this is not my forte!

Over the course of my career, I have worked with children with a range of special needs, which has  rewarded and challenged me in many ways. For the past three years, I have worked exclusively with children with severe autism, and my motivation came from the seemingly small breakthroughs that I supported them to make.  Motivation also came from the fact that if I wasn't organised and entertaining, me and my team would endure extremes of emotional and physical challenge - people with autism do not do disorganised and underprepared! We would all work interminably hard to provide an enriching learning environment and use our many skills to support the pupils that we came to care so much about. Now there is a vacuum, a void, a dirty great gaping hole where my life for the past 17 years was!

So, I will have to find new challenges, and motivate myself to actively pursue them. To be fair to myself, I have made a start - I’m on week 2 of the Couch to 5K programme, and played tennis last week. Writing a blog is new too, and I did make some bunting! I have purposely avoided signing up for anything that requires a regular time commitment, until I have found my feet. Ironically, my husband, who retired three years ago, has recently started to volunteer for two organisations. In recognition of this, I have started taking photos of his feet - he’s clearly found them, so they are worth recording! 

Technically of course, I am still on holiday, so I could continue to do what all good school staff do in their six week summer break - eat cake and drink gin. Don’t think I will need much motivation for that!