How Taking Professional Nudes Changed My Self-Image

There’s something inherently raw about nude pictures. They’re so vulnerable that they can become empowering.

It’s no surprise that I don’t love every single part of my body. I’d bet even Kendall Jenner wishes for bigger tits. What I’m trying to convey is this: the illusion of the perfect body is always in the eye of the beholder.

When I dove headfirst into this photoshoot, I never thought it would shape my sense of self-worth and self-image. I’ve always been quite self-conscious about my breasts. There were times in my life when I had a full-on C-cup (if you’re not familiar with sizes, that’s a pretty full cup in your hands). But then I lost weight and stopped taking hormonal birth control, and they vanished into an A-cup — and with it, my self-esteem.

I considered taking the pill again just so my breasts would grow, but I would’ve taken it for the external validation I’d get from men rather than the actual use case of avoiding pregnancy. So, I decided I’d much rather live with my modest Kendall Jenner-like breasts (there we go: she’s still making millions with her A-cup) than forfeit my body for some beauty ideal. I tried to focus on acceptance with no clear path of how I might go from hiding them to loving them.

Were my breasts emotionally ready for a nude shoot? Absolutely not, but they’re not getting any perkier in the meantime.

As I started to undress, I questioned why I was even doing a nude shoot. By this time, I’ve had a few years to accept them for what they are. But I wasn’t really in a place where I was loving them. Instead, I somehow managed to convince myself that “I better enjoy them now, before they look even saggier once I’ve breastfed a kid or two.”
Only now, as I say it out loud, do I see how harsh it sounds. Self-talk can be crushing. Ironically, I actually thought I was doing well.

Is it possible to capture insecurity in a frame?

Continuing to undress, I expected the pictures to reflect what I see in the mirror every day. Having never done this before, I had absolutely no idea how to pose or what exactly to do. Standing on the spot he told me to stand on, I felt a little unsure of myself and was simultaneously doing my best to keep my nipples hard so my breasts would look more plump. As he started to direct my poses, he seemed to be getting shots he liked, giving me a tad more confidence to let loose. After all, I was already butt naked — nothing left to lose.

And then everything changed. He turned the camera around with a smile and said, “You need to see this.” I couldn’t see much on the tiny screen, but I saw enough to realize that he was capturing how he saw my body, not how I saw it. This whole time, I had only seen the loss of what was once there.

All my years of self-consciousness all of a sudden seemed like an idiotic mind game I had played on myself. It dawned on me that I hadn’t found acceptance through compassion and self-love. I had found acceptance by telling myself that it would get worse, so I might as well “take ’em as they come.”

I got dressed, and he plugged the SD card into the computer. When I saw the raw pictures, a single tear rolled down my face. This woman on the screen was fearless. The pictures portrayed someone who seemed comfortable in a moment of utter vulnerability. I barely recognized her.

The effect reminded me of the feeling people get when they hear their own voice. We hear ourselves all the time, and yet hearing a recording of our voice sounds like a stranger. None of the photos were ever edited. So how come the mirror reflects self-scrutinization when the pictures show self-confidence and courage? The pictures showed the kind of woman I always wanted to be. A daredevil who doesn’t care what others think. A girl of her own mind who eats judgment for breakfast and won’t be held back by convention.

Since that day, two things stayed with me: firstly, the mirror never showed me what I looked like. It shows me how I see myself. And secondly, how I see myself depends on what I choose to see.

Then and there, I felt proud to look into my own eyes and see insecurity replaced by confidence. Without the proof in black and white, I may never have seen that this version of a woman can exist if only I believe in her.

Sometimes courage and liberation can be the same thing.