Stepping out of the comfort zone

Largely I think as a response to bereavement, I am trying to seize life, the day and all that. I keep testing my nerve and trying new things. One huge one was to accept an invitation to have some boudoir photographs done complete with rose petals, saucy underwear, feathers, fans and a riding crop! I nervously went into the hotel where the shoot was to take place noting the obvious discomfort of the male receptionist at what was happening in one of suites upstairs and probably, worse that how can a size 22 possibly want to take her clothes off in front of anyone. I walked up and down the corridor for an age before tapping on the door of the suite. Maybe they would not hear me and then I could escape without losing too much face. The mirror in the corridor had not done much to reassure me - unkempt hair, no make-up, baggy fat covering clothes - not exactly a glamour puss then! A woman aged about 12 years and inevitably blonde and lovely let me in and instructed me to get my "outfit" on straightaway in the ensuite bathroom. Into bra and pants and the cop-out black silky robe. Then I entered the main room where various women were and it was hard to work out where everyone fitted in. Some were waiting for their photo session, some were just there to support and some were the hair and make-up girls. Confidence started to build when the make-up artist said she would not need to do much with me as I had lovely skin. Same was said by my wedding make-up person so perhaps I have to believe this. Lovely to sit in a chair being pampered with no children pulling at me or demanding yet another meal, drink, cuddle. No man to tell me that I have done the washing up in the wrong order as if life depends on such decisions. Peace and a friendly female-only enviroment that reminded me of the maternity ward when all the visitors have gone. I was plied with some booze to calm me down and turned down the chocolates lest I go up to size 24 instantly. "Are you ready?", the photographer asked and as I walked from the prep suite to the photos location next door, there was a sense of "Let's just go for it!". Suffice to say, I found the experience very liberating and discovered a whole new exhibitionish side to myself. It was fun to play and be encouraged to do so. When Mum died, the worst happened. Now I can try new things feeling that her spirit would whole-heartedly approve. Coming home on the train in my baggy clothes and boring anorak, I kept giggling at the thought "If only the other passengers knew what I had just done!". There is life in the old girl yet!