I painted my nails in case she made me go through with it. I fully intended to tell Holly to just keep the session fee I paid and apologize and leave. I’d packed a bag with a couple props and outfits the night before when I was feeling confident but now I was embarrassed carrying it to my car. So now I’m driving across town crying, scared, and with bright red nails. You know, in case she actually made me do it.
I got hustled into a makeup chair as soon as I arrived. Holly was doing several shoots that day (someone had opened their home for mini-sessions) and while I was having my hair done, I caught glimpses of this barefoot gorgeous woman with a camera, and hearing occasional screeches of YEEEESSSSSSS coming from whatever room she was in. I assumed she was Holly, and I didn’t know what the hell was happening but I guess I painted my nails for good reason because I’m not leaving at this point.
I walked into that house terrified. Tear stained. A plain, mousy divorced girl that’s self conscious about the way her tummy bulges and hates her neck. Holly screamed and showed me the back of her camera, and something in me shifted. By the end of the day, I walked with my head higher.
And the high has never worn off. I saw that day what I am worth. And it’s my mission to never look back, and to help other women see what I saw that day in themselves. People tell me all the time they wish they had my confidence. Boudoir gave me that confidence.
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