Exposition

Taking pictures of yourself with your clothes on is one thing. Start peeling away the layers and the meaning changes depending upon the layer. When you get down to your underwear, you still have something to 'hide' behind (even if it's sheer). But once you decide to go bare assed naked there is only so much you can do to turn a blind eye to what you really are. You can cover yourself up strategically, but who the hell are you kidding? Why take it off in the first place if you're just going to cover it up with something else?

My lover requested me to send topless pictures. A reasonable request I thought, and another opportunity for me to challenge myself and the way I thought about my body. And actually, I realized I didn't really think about my body - and if I did, it was in negative terms. What clothes I could fit into, which ones were too revealing, made me look old or fat. I noticed that in around my house there were no mirrors that showed my body from the chest down, with the exception of my bedroom closet doors - and I never dressed in front of them. Looking back, I realized I had stopped looking at my body from the shoulders down sometime around the time I turned 30. What happened, I wondered to myself ? At this moment I'm still not sure, but somehow I began to discount the importance of that part of my body. And, in retrospect, I realize now that this only contributed to my current dispostion of insecurity, only strengthening that societal notion of self-image I detest and criticize so much.


Now was the time to reverse that hypocrisy, that inherited gene I unconsciously refused to remedy. As I set the timer on my camera, I briefly considered not going through with it. The deed was not yet done, the possibility of anything negative resulting was not yet a possibility. My mind began to posture and justify all sides. I let my physical body continue along its natural path. I began to undress and put mind over matter, paying little mind to the awkwardness of my body and the endless cacophony of cautious and critical whispering in my head. Frame after frame I continued on, until my perception shifted from the consciousness of my body, to the quality of the pictures. I became a photographed object, considering the angle of the camera, the play of the light on the contours of my body, the positioning of my hands and lay of my hair on my shoulders.

This continued night after night, and with each shoot, I began to challenge myself on my comfort level, the familiarity of my hands on my body instead of my eyes, and the feel of the bedding and furry pillows on my thighs and belly. By the fourth night, I'm wet even before I start to set up the camera. My mind raced with thoughts of lust, anticipating the ways I would provide visual pleasure to my lover. Before I knew what was happening, I undressed completely and began to photograph myself. As I reviewed the images, I gasped when I flashed to one dsplaying my body in full view,no panties. I had never photographed my privates before, and only a handful of times actually looked at my pussy in a mirror. Curiously, I wasn't horrified or shocked at all. Maybe I was becoming 'used to' the idea of being 'naughty'. But the reality spoke a much greater truth: I was beginning to rediscover my sensuality openly and freely, without reservation, or analysis.
Another great step toward opening up the doors to my sexual side, the sensual side, the part having been hidden for so long, thus leaving me incomplete as a woman. But not anymore.