The Photo
Note: In 2012, I had gastric bypass surgery and lost 86 pounds. 12 years later - I work on my health and well being every single day.
It was 2015. Dorly, the creative director at Goldenlight Creative, was helping me choose outfits for my photo shoot. “You’d be surprised how many people decline my help because they don’t want to show their closet,” Dorly said as she peered in.
“How do you find the best looks if you don’t look?” I’d already picked most of my outfits and matched up the accessories. A fuchsia sheath dress, a leather jacket, my favorite jeans, a lace mini and a fur vest my mother gave me.
There was little to organize because I’d tossed out my fat clothes. My old closet symbolized the weight of emotional crap I’d carried through my life. Three different sizes of fat clothes, things I’d purchased because nothing else was in my size, shoes that pinched, belts that held up nothing.
“Did you keep a pair of pants from before to show how much you’d lost?” Dorly asked me.
“Nope.” I didn’t want to be a poster of before and after when I was struggling with the now.
She nodded. “A woman’s closet shows her emotional state. You need to give yourself credit for more than your weight loss. A lot of hard work has been done.”
I smiled as if I’d received a gold plated A+ on a report card. In truth, I tossed the clothes as if I were burning a bridge to keep the weight from creeping back onto my body.
I’ve rarely sat with or relished the satisfaction of reaching a goal. Taking the time to reflect and celebrate pinched me boiled wool sweater. To escape the burning itch, I’d change the finish line and stretch myself further into the Next Thing.
The my weight loss goal was to finish. Was it a number on the scale or a magical place? I help other people write their stories - yet, I had no concept if this moment was a beginning, middle or end.
I arrived at Dorly’s studio, wet and shivering from a pop up storm. Inside, snuggled into her tufted gray couch, she handed me several fashion magazines. “Tell me if you see a make up style or pose that speaks to you.”
As a creative person who finds inspiration everywhere, I couldn’t imagine myself as anyone in a magazine. The pages grew blurrier with each turn until I saw drips on the paper. I looked up to see if the roof was leaking only to find it was my own tears staining the paper. If I couldn’t feel the hot tears on my cheeks, how would I EVER figure out how I wanted to feel, much less, look.
I pulled a crinkly tissue out of my purse and wiped away my liquid frustration before Dorly would see. I drew in several deep breaths while hoping the flush of my cheeks would subside.
Dorly peeked out from her office. “Let’s see what you’ve found!”
I shrugged. “I need your help revealing the Real Me. The one hiding underneath. The one who doesn’t know how to be shown yet.”
Dorly reassured me. “My clients are always experiencing transition. They either want a change, are swimming through the middle of it, or are now at the end of a long road. The honesty of the transformation will be validated through the photography. Trust me, and together we’ll find the inner story.”
She knew how to speak my language and tame my exploding anxiety.
As dappled light passed through the window sheers, Dorly pointed me in different directions. Look down, then up, shoulder forward, fewer teeth, and longer neck. Fluid. Easy.
The images she captured of me on that particular day have become a daily practise of self-acceptance. In her extrodinary photograpghy, I am reminded I exist and matter.
More than pounds lost, I know I exist.
In the Now.
