Wall of Tiger Stripes

Imagine being in a room wearing nothing but sheer panties and a sheet. Your mind reeling that everyone is going to see every roll in your skin and every horrible stretch mark. Then they are going to take pictures...This was my reality this past Saturday night. It was also what opened up the gates to the Wall of Tiger Stripes. 

A few weeks ago one of my girlfriends, whom is a professional photographer, mention she wanted to do a girls night and wanted to offer a discount for sexy boudoir photo's. She has a complete studio in her house and 3 of my best friends would be there for support. I decided to take the plunge and go for it. I wanted my husband to have something nice in the large frames he has on the wall on his side of the bed. What better way then to act like I don't care what my body looks like and that I don't look like cottage cheese thrown into a grater and spit out the other end as hamburger right? That was the plan. As far as plans go it was a good one, until it forced me to look at the inner walls. 

It is much easier to believe that my body is horrible and should be covered. It is much easier to automatically think the worst and portray that on the outside because then when someone says something it doesn't sting as much. When someone tells you "Yeah you should really look into a tummy tuck or cream for cellulite" it doesn't hurt as much when you beat them to the punch line. Besides, I don't really give a f*ck with you think or what anyone thinks...yeah sure I don't...go hide back behind the wall chickenshit. 

So I go to the girls night with my Pepsi in hand (I don't drink) and my hair curler, with my makeup done up and I am thinking "WTF am I doing? This is not a good idea." Thankfully she is already shooting someone else so I get a chance to take some deep breaths, hide behind the wall and act like everything is perfectly fine. Inside I want to vomit. After curling my hair a bit and spraying some insta-cement, I am as close to ready as ready is ever going to get. Shannon comes out of the studio and announces she is ready to go with my photo's. Deep Breath, deep breath..don't pass out..it's fine...your a tough bitch you can take this...

I walk in and Shannon tells me what we are going to do. A simple shoot with me in a sheet, topless. I was with her up until the topless part. She reminds me it is mostly going to be covered. Sensing I am nearly in tears she asks if I want my best friend Kim to come in for moral support. Kim is one of the few people I trust not to crack a comment that could shatter me to a million pieces at once. I say yes and go to get my little lace booty panties on. I cried the whole time I was changing. 

I finally emerge holding my hands over my chest and quickly scamper to get under the sheet. Shannon starts taking pictures and her and Kim start saying how nice they are going to look. Shannon mentions how perfect my skin is, and Kim comments on how she doesn't understand what my problem is with my body. That's because the hideous Freddy Krueger stretch marks are hidden with a sheet I say to myself. Peggy enters the room and we all start talking about self body image while Shannon keeps clicking. Enter Tina, our resident crazy lady with blaze pink hair and Tattoo's from here to the end of the earth. I slowly become more comfortable and begin to realise a few key things. 

First, what I am worried about showing up in these pictures is exactly what the girls are praising. My stretch marks from a child 19 years earlier are what I am worried will end up looking like a scary racetrack on my body through pictures. The girls are looking at the pictures Shannon has already taken and are squealing that they are beautiful. I roll my eyes and say "Yeah sure they are" with a little nervous giggle thrown in. Kim announces that they should just take them with me and then I would feel okay about them. Enter the girls plans to photo bomb me. 

Obviously I become relaxed after this. How could I not? Then I get hit with the wall straight in my face as I start to reflect and live in the moment with my own emotions and feelings. 

These are my own hang ups..brick down...nobody else See's what I see...brick down...they are thinking I look great, even if I don't...brick down..Nobody notices the stretch marks because they don't matter...brick down...the person matters..brick down...the feelings on the inside matter..brick down..not the outside...brick down...they are not stretch marks...brick down..the are fuckin' Tiger Stripes baby...brick down...and I have earned Every Single One...brick down....

I finished my shoot with Shannon and she showed me a few pics off her camera. They look much different if you look at them with an eye for beauty instead of looking for every flaw, hiccup, mark, scratch and zit. They are almost beautiful. I saw almost because I cannot lie here and say that I am there 100%. But I can say that I am starting to see what my husband see's. It isn't the stretch marks and the cellulite on my legs. It's the woman beneath. The woman that radiates behind the wall desperately seeking to get out. 

I don't know exactly who she is yet. I have a lot of work to do to figure that all out.

 But she has Tiger Stripes baby, and she is done apologising for them!