Modeling after 50

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The sad truth is that I used to tell myself at 20 what we all consider our best selves -that I didn't ever want to reach 50 fearing I would see an unrecognizable wrinkly face. Yes, that sounds incredibly shallow to most.  But at that time I was still fully engulfed in a woefully agonizing self image. If I hated what I saw then in the mirror how was it going to get any easier? 

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But there is always a plan of growth the soul has even if the human doesn't know. And to others it may seem superficial and egotistical. But when one has never had the ability to develop a healthy sense of self, it contaminates all aspects of life until one can see the problem and begin to correct it from the inside out. Sometimes some of us need to go from the outside in to get to the inside out part. Weird I know. But I gave the powers that be a run for their money, in turn they gifted me some bricks to rebuild my broken foundation however that may appear to people not having this issue. 

So moving along here in my point -the women at 50 when-- I was young i saw mothers, and grandmother  who lost themselves to unplucked mustaches, beard hair, most women opted for short comfortable hair, perms and polyester pants. My mom donned mounds of white lumpy cellulite. While that sounds like a judgement, yes it was but it was her doing by introducing me to porn at a young age. The models did not have cellulite--not the ones I saw. So I was judging myself all the time and secretly others because that's what we do when we do not love ourselves. I think now it's a heavy percentage of woman who feel this way but learn to just "adjust" and go on. I think society impacts everyone in a way that will need undoing some day. But a woman who is comfortably seated in herself, her skin, her power and her soul knows who she is --doesn't give a shit what others think. She knows she has to live with herself 24/7. I was far from that at 20, and I longed for that kind of self love and confidence. Or maybe that's journey achieved though the struggle, loss, pain, isolation, betrayal, cruelty, twin flames, unhealthy parents, and the awareness something just feels icky.

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When I reached 50 or so, I kinda developed a let's see what happens attitude. Since my beauty was said to be photogenic then the magic happens sometimes through the lens and make up and lighting. So I got some silly ideas to make a fairy costume, a friend and I hiked 2 miles to and from this giant tree in Salem Ct to be a woodland fairy. T

I had seen in The Hartford Courant one year prior and said to myself I gotta go see that tree. I packed a large suitcase for camera equipment and costume pieces that would get ruined if I wore during the hike. I was overweight - I always weaved in an out of weight issues during my entire life after my last pregnancy and stress began eroding my systems. The weight of unresolved trauma still buried but trying to be resolved bits at a time. The modeling and creativity with my body made me feel somewhat still viable. Especially when I seriously thought I had a shelf life of about 49. At my highest weight I felt very uncomfortable and immobile. Depression came and went. In my 40's I was on many medications that really only complicated what I now know about my body and DNA, hormones, trauma locked in my body, etc. Doing photography gave my mean monkey mind rest as I switched gears to creativity and imagination. 

During my 40's I actually wanted to do a business photography other women who felt unpretty because I also loved to be creative with others and allow them to see themselves though a different lens. Feel special, feminine, attractive and desirable. I chatted it up with my third? photographer JR who has remained my friend since I was 20. He always told me I was not ugly and that I needed to believe in myself. But it's hard to explain to someone when you have been so ravaged as an infant on up body and mind. It's taken years and years to be able to look in the mirror without disgust or critical comments. 

There was a freedom too at this age where if I was even being asked that meant I was still in the creativity game as a format, a medium lets say. (literally and figuratively then) 52 became my winner year. Something snapped, maybe it was a snap back reaction in the bipolar where I was on the brink of mental obliteration after my parents died, the caring, the probate battles, the little girl left on her own, the blackness of isolation for a year following their passing. 

I rebounded with a whiplash effect by joining wrestling, weight lifting, ADHD meds, getting muscular, doing a mommy make over, all within a compact period of time. I was even accepted to a body make over show. But  my knee was twisted under a wrestler in one of my greatest ring challenges--and I got damaged. In that match I had finally felt a bit confident. And that was the spiraling of another downward cycle. 

Rick was another photographer I met from Craigslist, I figured I'm too old for ridiculousness so why not. He turned to be a good friend too and kept asking to do shoots until I physically got very sick. But he was the one that showed me through his work, at 52 I did enough work on myself where I didn't need editing. I didn't see the pics for two years, I just kind of forgot figuring oh yeah that will be a lot of work to edit, and I had forgotten them. The idea was to replicate a kind of human statue. We did many shoots together. And there was always something good that came out of it--not everything because that's just how modeling works and photography, you take many you get a few where your not blinking, smirking weird or crunched in the wrong angle. 

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SOUL LESSON

I do believe the soul lesson here was to learn self love through the body. Through being violated at such a young age and seeing porn at 9, I had to learn my body was many things. It could be a creative outlet but in the years prior to 50 thought my body meant nothing, wasn't beautiful or sacred or full of Creator's grace and purpose. I was raised with no boundaries and was always being hunted so to speak. I'm sure my guides worked over time and some probably quit hopelessly. I was violated repeatedly or attempts made by men in all professions. While fighting for custody for my infant son, my second old crusty well known attorney while trying to convince me he had a strategy he walked behind me, and suddenly placed his hands down my chest. I did what I always did--froze, fawned and left. Later I heard from a family member she knew of someone else he did this too. I fired him later and buried it. Like the real estate agent I worked for before I got my license, who tried to r*** me by getting me drunk and pushing me down on his couch while unzipping his pants. I got up and ran out, sobered up quickly drove home in my old car and said nothing for years. I was the one always left with shame, embarrassment and guilt for something I had not wanted or created. I was just so incredibly naïve as part of my upbringing. No defenses, just a body and confused as to why this kept happening. I know now an energetic net surrounds the body from birth and when it gets breached it's almost like the vultures can hone in on it. I was continually tested until I lost everything and the pain of living outside of myself made living impossible. I had to find a self, some boundaries and some kinda self kindness and love. And lots of forgiveness. And to quit judging. 50's began a turning point even though I would have another decade of sorting it all our mentally, physically, emotionally, and spiritually--mostly alone with very little help to make me earn my power so I would never forget the battle and the sacrifices. 

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Excerpt from Body Dysmorphic page 

Tragic but funny incident 

I hated looking in the mirror, hated my forehead for one thing, heavy eyelids etc. So with the forehead issue I was so insecure I would not do anything that would blow the hair away from my forehead - so no amusement park rides, and so on. One day while on my bike heading to our local store, on the return trip I ran my bike into the back of a car while looking donward trying not to expose my forehead---not once but TWICE around the age of 12. I had a phobia about lines in my forehead.  I had more phobias from the dysmorphia -then not knowing there was such a term for it-- from freckles as a kid, frizzy hair in my teens, heavy eyelids that I would sleep with my fingers holding up at night and more--to later having a chubby belly and being too pasty white, then having birthing scars to tiny veins in my legs at 21. You don't get a second chance to enjoy what you look like in your youth.

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I had no idea corrupted the images of perfect gorgeous bodies of porn women. And don't think at 9 years old you can just shake it off and develop a healthy self image, not when you grow up in a sexual world. I developed deep seated triggers about this, somehow.  For example if I was with a loved one and there was nudity on a screen I would get bat shit crazy. The first time it happened it scared me, my friend who didn't know there was any nudity and my newer boyfriend at the time. I had to bury those triggers until I could figure out how to fix it. (karmic twin flame at 52 did if for me) He never understood it, and he never pushed my buttons on it. 

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People in society brush this off. They don't get it. I had only met one woman who felt like I do with the tv/movie nudity stuff. 

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So oddly I was still asked by local photographers and my own sparks of creation I decided I wanted to play with costumes, make up, lighting and posing at every stage it seemed of my life, even my heaviest times, and later on in life. Now I know people LOVE to criticize older, heavier women so I am prepared to accept I'm sure I won't be excluded.  But I've been through enough pain in the last 14 years with the twin flame forcing me to anti up and try to step into the me that says I have a right to be here and grow old too. 

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