I recently did a nudey/boudoir photoshoot for Gaz’s upcoming birthday. It was supposed to be a surprise, but there was little point in attempting to keep it a secret after he saw me in full make-up – he guessed straight up what I’d been up to. I can’t tell if I’m predictable or he’s a genius.
Either way, I was blown over when I got the pictures back this week. There are a couple I particularly like, but they’re all pretty good. Here’s my favourite (now featured in every social media profile I own):
What particularly shocked me though, was that having been told that they’d “not done much” to the photos, I spent a couple of hours poring over them second-guessing which bits of me had been photoshopped, smoothed out and tidied up.
As someone who considers herself to not have any major body issues, it sure made me realise I have them in spades just like every bugger else. And all this because I thought I looked “too good”. Jesus wept…
Glabrousness (from the Latin glaber meaning “bald”, “hairless”, “shaved”, “smooth”)
From glam to glabrous (OK, I only picked that word because it was alliterative): I completed my Brave the Shave challenge for Macmillan on August 31st. Supported by friends and family, they removed what little hair I had on my head, rendering me bald.
With the online donations and collections on the night, I’ve raised about £350. I’d love to hit my target of £500 and it’s not too late to donate, so if you feel so inclined you can pop a few quid over via my Brave the Shave page.
On Saturday night I did something I’ve never done before: I voluntarily applied make-up to myself and went out. AND I wore high heels.
Just so we’re clear here, the aforementioned made-up look for my boudoir shoot was only the second time in my life I’d worn make-up, and was entirely not my doing. (The first time was when I went on the tellybox and they PLASTERED me in the bloody stuff.)
The plan was a cocktail night with the gorgeous, glamorous Lilian and her equally gorgeous other half Gary (oh, and my other half). Not wanting to be out-glammed I threw on some heels that I’d bought from LASULA for SIX QUID (yes, SIX), a sexy AF peephole playsuit and a touch of badly-applied lippy.
I probably looked like an outtake from The Rocky Horror Picture Show, and I felt like Bambi on ice…
but the buzz from doing something new and different was awesome. Even the waiter accidentally dumping two cocktails all over me couldn’t dampen (puns!) my party spirit.
Admittedly drinking half a bottle of wine and my share of 21 cocktails wasn’t a brilliant idea but that just gave me an excuse to eat a huge fried breakfast the following morning. Rock ‘n’ roll lifestyle.
And you never know, I could be a make-up blogger before you know it.