expose

Exposé

As the robe slipped off my shoulders, I was standing in front of the window.  Twitching nets had graced the street when the photographer arrived and for the first time since Sam’s mother had presented us with the hideous frilly things that adorned our living room window. I was appreciative of the privacy they provided. Until now, their sole purpose was to keep the women happy on unexpected visits. Just like other stuff in the house, including a revolting piece of china. Which had, on numerous occasions been given a gentle push!  Only to lie unbroken until it found its way back up onto the mantlepiece.

            The photographer had unloaded equipment from a large black bag, which was big enough to take a body but held only a small number of technical bits and bobs, folded sticks and round long lens things –photography is not one of my strong points! – And what to me looked like children’s umbrellas’. All of which were now positioned around the living room. Making it resemble one of those ‘cute baby competitions’ stands, you find in shopping centres. I’m sure at one point I saw a furry hand puppet lurking in the bottom of that bag!

The uneasy silence in the room was broken by a mechanical whirring followed by a couple of clicks.

‘Hold it right there, that’s great, lovely shot’.

Whirrrr click, click, click

The sounds didn’t mask the thumps of the beating muscle in my chest. I felt embarrassed, exposed and on show like a side of pig in a butchers shop window. It had been years since anyone had seen me naked, I had even denied Sam the privilege. Ok so I had lost a few kilos, 19 to be exact - that’s 3 stone in old money! - But I was fully conscious of the fact I was still a little big. My middle aged spread had expanded so much it needed chair to itself. Spare tire is what they call it, the image of a car tire wrapped in my skin with go faster stretch marks sprung to mind. Trying not to laugh I grinned, showing off my recent dental work.

’hold it, yes love that shot, smile at the camera, work that look’.

Whirr click, click, click

The grin had resulted in a giggle. The giggle turned into what was now a full belly laugh. It was no good, I needed a timeout, I had to cover up and take a breather. I always found laughing helped me deal with the pain of cruel people pointing and whispering that now I would burst into laughter without even trying. I’d put on a brave face at the gym, walked the treadmill I now ran on and rowed myself around the world at least once. My personal trainer Daryl thought I was doing great and that he was proud of the progress I had made. Personally I think he was just attempting to chat me up!

On weigh-in nights I muscled my way into the church hall and prayed I wasn’t the biggest one there. The first night, in front of 15 complete strangers and the leader....Beth - I like to inform you where I buy stuff from - Gibbons. I stepped on the Speaking Scales, which retail on Amazon for £55 apparently! And waited for the

‘Whoa that’s some weight, cough, cough!’

It didn’t actually say that but to me that’s exactly what I heard! Beth said I would start seeing a difference straight away. At the time I remember thinking -not a chance- but now three years on I see she was right.

 I attempted to pull myself together with some long deep breaths.  I could tell my immature giggles hadn’t washed well with my guest who was looking at the clock on the wall. A pretty timepiece brought as a wedding gift. Sam’s mother thought it was lovely and I suggested we give it to her as a birthday gift, with the ghastly china all wrapped in the frilly nets.  Sam was having none of it. Its practicality and good timekeeping won its case against me, so there on the wall it sits, hiding the actual colour of the paint, the same as every picture hanging in the house. Maybe it was time I decorated!!!

I could tell by the clock glance the photographer seemed impatient to go...not that that holds any surprise; I mean I wouldn’t want to see my naked flesh let alone photograph it! In fact thinking about it, I haven’t looked at my naked body in a mirror for oooooh 10 years, god has it been that long! So off with the robe...again! It’s a bit chilly outside for September; we haven’t had to put the heating on yet, so I’m sure my nipples must be standing out like chapel hat-pegs. It’s funny the things you think about when unmasked to some stranger you contacted on a website advertising their photography business. We’d emailed back and forth over possible times, dates and places. Then met up for an informal chat about this present for Sam as an anniversary gift...after all 25 years married is a big thing these days! The photographer had thought it was a fantastic idea.  

Whirr click, click, click

Whirr click, click, click

 ‘Right, I’d like you to turn and face the wall...lets see that lovely behind of yours....ok hold it, good...sexy shot’.

Whirr click, click, click

Sexy shot...ehhh!! I don’t think so but then again maybe it was. After all, my bum is definitely my best feature always has been. I remember as a teenager squeezing it into a pair of tight skinny jeans. Styled together with a rather striking patterned jumper...tucked in! I was never one to follow fashion but thought I looked so sexy when actually looking back, sexy was not the look I’d achieved!

‘Lift your head a little, a bit more, that’s it now smile... yes!!’

Whirr click, click, click

Whirr click, click, click

It was around that time that I met Sam. Who turned out to be the love of my life, not that I knew back then of course! It didn’t start off as the romance of the century, I mean sliding across the dance floor in platform shoes, and then slipping in a pool of beer is not what one would call graceful. But I always admitted it was the gentle thwack of me kicking Sam in the ankle that secured our mating.  

‘Can you lie on the sofa?’

‘Can I What? Oh yeh, ok!’

Lying down on our brand new leather sofa I felt more uncomfortable than ever, naked skin and leather are rarely friendly. You see both, when introduced have the tendency to be rather vocal, which to the ears of a child would be humorous. But in my case would be decidedly rude. Standing up, I grabbed the robe.

‘Back in a minute’

Darting out the door into the hall, I took a moment to catch my breath. It was a relief to have the robe on even if it was just for a few minutes. After retrieving a fleece blanket from upstairs and covering the adhesive nature of the sofa I disrobed and repositioned myself in an attempt to feel confident...

 ‘Oh yes, love it! Work the camera; give me some pouting looks’

Whirr click, click, click

 ‘Pouting looks?’

Whirr click, click, click

Of all the expressions a face can have, pouting was not one I considered to be my best. Now, the startled rabbit clinging to the road, frozen in the lights of an approaching car look. That one I could see. I tried to pout but the photographers constant smirk told me it just wasn’t going there!

‘Ok how do you feel about using props?’

‘Props!! Like what?’

As if lying here naked calls for the use of anything except clothes.

Whirr click, click, click

 ‘Err, I was thinking about... I mean, how would you feel about the possibility of using a cat or your dog maybe?’

‘A cat or the dog! Are you mad?’

Whirr click, click, click

My vocal dismay at the knowledge of extra eyes spying and long wet tongues slurping anywhere near my naked form resembled a scene from Monty Python.  A high pitched squeaky voice sounding out my alarm!

‘We don’t have a cat and there’s no way I’m posing with the dog!!!  Sharp teeth and claws plus bare skin do not mix’.

I’d already had the misfortune of our mongrel Bunker licking my backside, after finding it protruding from underneath the duvet one Sunday morning a week or so back.  He was... at this moment though playing nicely out the back with the neighbours washing! He does that! I’m not sure why...

            I could see the photographer’s face straining with high ideas - the next David Bailey! – looking around searching for something, anything that could be used for that ‘perfect shot’. It seemed that purely out of desperation they would border on the surreal, what with the cat and the dog suggestion. What would be next the neighbours chicken!!  Itself sounding way too kinky to me, which I might add, was not in the agenda for this gift! So to save myself I suggested a break:

            ‘Fancy a coffee? lets take some time out and have a look at what you’ve got so far’

            ‘Sounds good’

            Relieved and securely covered by the robe I walked confidently across the room to the kitchen and put the kettle on.

            ‘So what gave you the idea for this photo?’

The photographer now stood in the kitchen doorway; over coffee I told them all about a magazine article I’d read. About a woman who had this nude photo done as a gift for her husband.  My weight issues and also how Sam had always been there for me. From skinny jeans to Bunker! How I felt more confident now, comfortable within my skin and wanted to show it. Well I thought it was original.

‘That’s amazing, well done...I’m sure Sam will love it.’

‘Oh I  hope so’

The desperation in my tone met with an understanding nod from the photographer and a reassuring confirmation that Sam would. A photograph of me in my altogether! I remembered that Sam found that phrase hilarious especially when in reference to the song by Danny Kaye. Humming the song to myself, the photographer’s lap-top buzzed with the slideshow of my nakedness. Of the sixty odd photos taken there was only five that were ok....one of them showed me standing at the window, just a silhouette against the daylight...I liked it and would have been happy to go with that one but the photographer was sure the perfect shot was still to come.

After coffee and feeling more confident than before, I disrobed and lay on the sofa....secretly hoping the *dog/cat* idea had been diverted.  

‘Ok, now I want you to give it all you’ve got. Work the camera. It’s all about you.’

Whirr click, click, click

Laughing, we both flirted with different ideas. I worked the camera! Lying as sexily as I could, using the whole sofa.  I flipped and I bounced. Posed and pursed my lips together in a comical fashion. The more I did the more confident I felt.

Whirr click, click, click

Maybe it was wrong to feel this relaxed. I mean naked in front of a photographer when I couldn’t in front of Sam. Tonight though I would! I would undress in the bedroom - with the lights on - and not in the cupboard Sam lovingly described as ‘our dressing room’. Not that it ever was a cupboard; it’s the small passageway leading to our brand new en-suite. Which according to our fourteen year old son Daniel was not a proper en-suite bathroom but was just ‘a toilet with a shower in it’. Ok I admit it’s small, but it’s big enough for two and that suits me just fine. Plus it meant I was not privy to the tantrums between Daniel and his sixteen year old sister Emma at stupid o’clock every morning.

Whirr click, click, click

Whirr click, click, click

The hands of the twee timepiece, circumnavigated the pretty face. Not that I had noticed, I was having fun now. The passing minutes had turned to hours as I tried different positions, standing, sitting, even lying on the floor. I soaked up the attention. Laughed and flirted with the camera. Pretending it was Sam I was posing for.

I was totally unaware of the bus pulling up outside the house, or the key opening door sound coming from the hallway. And I was blissfully blinded to the approaching storm that had entered. Maybe I should have taken a second when the photographer arrived to double lock the front door. I wasn’t sure how long the kids had been standing in the doorway or what must have been running through their minds but when I turned wearing nothing but a smile I could see by the frozen gaze that this was going to take some explaining!

At that moment the uneasy silence of the room was broken by the double barrelled  sound of...

DAD!!!!!

©Mills Laine