Confessions From A Naked Stranger

My nipples were hard. I unzipped my jacket and let it fall on the cold, clay-dusted floor. I took a deep breath in and felt a single bead of sweat run down each vertebrae of my spine. I pressed my ear up against the door, wondering when I should come out. I heard the chairs groan against the floor followed by the sound of zippers and notebooks opening.

I tried to reason what had happened in my life to take me to this point. It was too late to go back and I knew it. Now all I had to do was decide what part of my body I would cover up with this stiff burlap sack, it was too short to cover both my breasts and my ass. Not like it mattered anyway, in just a few moments there would be no where to hide. I touched the tattoos on my hips, the bracelets on my wrists and ran my fingers down my freshly waxed bod. I couldn’t be more ready for this moment.

There was a knock on the door. They wanted me, they were ready. I put on a layer of chap stick and prayed that I wouldn’t know anyone on the other side of that door. I prayed that I wouldn’t sweat, or worse…

I was instructed to sit atop this three foot high pedestal on a very cold, green metal chair. My hands were shaking, I sat down and wrapped the burlap around the back of the chair. I leaned back in the chair and let my huge breasts just stare at everyone in the room. I didn’t know where to look, how to sit or if I should even talk.

I kept my legs tightly crossed and grabbed the bottom of that chair like I was hanging on for dear life. After a few minutes of silent drawing, I broke the ice.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this, how many other females have done this?”

The students were relieved. They told me that the other nude model was an uncomfortable middle aged man who thrusted his sagging balls at them. He sounded mean and I felt uncomfortable just looking at drawings of him.

It was then that I realized that I was doing the art world a great public service. I turned any way they wanted me to, I didn’t make awkward eye contact, I let them explore my body and stare at my moles. It was a totally surreal experience. It was beautiful and I felt liberated. The students drew me in various poses, laying down, sitting up, face down ass up (just kiddin’) and by the end of it had completed over a hundred sketches.

Then they were asked to sculpt me out of clay. This was a three day long project and by the third day I walked in there cooler than a cucumber. In fact, nudity became so comfortable to me that the students and I actually got in trouble for talking too much. I think the most pivotal point of my experience was when I realized they weren’t looking to discredit my body but to celebrate it artistically.

I adored some of the pictures they drew of me, down to every little detail like the beads on my bracelet, the mole on my chest or the tattoo on my ass. The sculptures weren’t as detailed but captured the overall shape of my body. The artwork created was remarkable and I was extremely flattered to be the inspiration behind it.

I think almost everyone, especially females, struggle with disharmony in what they perceive their body as versus what they believe it should look like. I was petrified this experience would exacerbate this disharmony but actually I just didn’t give a fuck, I felt powerful like a god damn tiger in all of my harmonic imperfections.

My reasons to pose nude were altruistic and selfish. I wanted to prove to myself that I could be proud of my body and bare it to the world. I also wanted to feel liberated, not to mention the rush that I got from doing something so taboo. At first I felt embarrassed but then my social inhibitions faded and I realized I was exposing myself in a pure, wholesome form.

Modeling nude taught me to appreciate the body I’ve been given. I was grateful to have the experience of using my body for art and not to sexually appease society. My experience was frightening, empowering and fascinating. So my message to any person reading this: your a fucking legend and your beautiful brain lives inside the home we call body. Respect it, take care of it, love it and fuck anyone or any entity that makes you feel inadequate. Thought Catalog Logo Mark

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