As I mentioned in an earlier post, turning forty has awakened my senses and dared me to try things I might never have otherwise dabbled in. I’ve pole-danced and will again, three more times (at least). I’ve rock climbed, though, I had rock climbed in my thirties so I’m not sure if that actually counts. I’m running my first 5K (up to 3.4 miles now) and hope to run many more after that. I’m writing this blog with the intention of turning it into a book for those who, like me, will struggle with turning the “F” word. And this week, I will bare all in what I know will be a fantastically staged photo shoot showing off several of my most prized possessions… my boobies, to name a few.
So how does a person prep for having their naked body photographed? Well, they must start with the right photographer… in this case, one of my husband’s best friends.
Enter, one Sean Murphy.
If you don’t know who Sean Murphy is then you betta ask somebody. This man, in my humble opinion and without being hyperbolic, is one of the greatest and most talented photographers alive right now, as well as being an awesome father and fantastic friend. His work, without exaggeration, is mother-fucking-shit-kicking-stupefyingly-bad-ass. He has taken photos over the years of some of the biggest and most well-known music artists in existence: Green Day, Tool, and Tenacious D, to name a few. And check out this picture of my all-time favorite fuck-worthy redheaded front man, Josh Homme. Tell me this doesn’t scream talent. And sex. And more really good sex. It does, trust me. I had three orgasms just writing about it. Needless to say, THIS is the guy I want taking pictures of me in flagrante delicto, because if anyone can make this thirty-nine year old ass look good, it’s this guy.
So now that you’ve got the man behind the camera, what’s next, you say? Well, to put it bluntly, you. You’re next. Your ass, particularly, is next. So get off it, and get to the gym, because the camera doesn’t lie, baby. And if you Google image “boudoir photography” right now, you will see several pictures of several women in several poses who SHOULD. NOT. BE. And you should spare yourself and your photographer the embarrassment if you think you’re just going to roll out of bed, completely unprepared to do this. Don’t waste your money, his time, or my eyesight. Ya dig? Cool. So let me tell you how you do this thing…
First, eat right. Even if you are not Ms. Universe, and believe me, you don’t have to be, you should be taking care of your body and your booty anyway. Fruits and vegetables will go a long way, as will cutting out the pasta, breads and unnecessary carbs. And by all means, just put the doughnut down, will you? You don’t need it. Life is goddamned too short to waste on processed or fried foods, unless of course its fried chicken and waffles, but you are only forgiven for that if it’s a once in a while thing and if you are visiting the South.
Next, try your best to do some sort of cardio. Walking is great for you, and if you can grab a friend, do it together. Even if you lose five pounds before you do this thing, YOU will feel better and YOU will have more confidence. No photographer wants to take pictures of someone who is embarrassed of their body, and weight loss makes everyone feel good, no matter how many or how few pounds you drop.
Get a haircut. Nothing says cheap and easy like split ends, so unless you’re going for the “cheap and easy” photo package, call Du-Wayne at The Cutting Edge, or Hair and Now or whatever cheesily named salon he works at these days and get your shit snipped. You’ll thank me when it’s over. And tell his boyfriend Steve I said hello.
Get a pubic haircut. I know, I know… I wrote those two blogs about my horrifying experience with a bikini wax, but the reality is, if your coochie is going to be on film, you may as well go through the agony of defeat. It is, after all, probably the only time you’re going to do this. Unless you’re me, of course. I’ve got another coming up in the fall.
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| Photo Courtesy: St. Louis Boudoir Photography |
Invest is some penis-hardening lingerie. You read that correctly. I didn’t try to hide behind any metaphors with that sentence, as you can plainly see. What I said was what I meant. Lingerie is great for photos but sucks for sex, right girls? Right. So if you know that, then do what is necessary and mosey on down to your local boutique/boudoir shop and pay some of those dollars that you earned for something beautiful; something downright fucking hot. No skimping, you hear me? Save the great buy at Dots or the Dollar Store panties for your one-night stands and break out the good stuff for Sean Murphy. He’ll appreciate it. And so will your man, or your woman.
And finally, have a drink, for fuck’s sake. Take the edge off. Pop half a valium if you must, but for deity’s sake, REFUCKINGLAX. This isn’t your first time having sex, and it’s not your first day on your job… it’s you, and your body, and you are in control of all that goes on during this thing. You call the shots, which is probably something you’re not used to, but today, right now, you do, so revel in it.
Now go, you sexy bitch… go show the world what a hot, 40-year old mother of (insert number here) looks like when she’s in the mood to rock your world and blow your mind (I said MIND), and wish me luck, as I’m about to do the same in seven short days.
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