Q: “DId you just pull your tummy in?”
Me: “Yes, and it is not polite to comment!”
I did it. I went through with it. I did the I’m Perfect Project.
Some background: The project is designed to allow all women, big, small, fat, thin, tall, lumpy, frumpy and scarred, to see themselves as beautiful. So you pop along, take off your Bridget Jones knickers, let it all hang out and smile for the camera.
Easy right?
Can you even spell bone-numbingly-teeth-chatteringly- terrifying?
I can. It didn’t last long though. After awhile all my concentration went on keeping my tummy in so the nerves had to take a back seat.
If only I could pick an exercise regime and stick to it.
Before going I washed my hair, did the depilatory thing, cleaned my teeth, covered my face in make-up, washed it off, did it again.
Then as I pulled up at the studio I looked down at my hands. Horror!
I forgot that during the pedicure experience I had tested out the nail varnish on my fingers and two of them were still bearing the scarred traces.
Q: “Any questions?”
Me: “Yes,.”
Q: “Fire away.”
Me: “Do you have nail varnish remover?”
Then comes one of those strange etiquette situations where social programming kicks in. I went into the loo to change into a gown. I’m about to pose starkers for heaven’s sake – why am I putting on a gown? When I left we went through the same ritual. Bizarre.
Me in my gown and Q in his flops we sat and had a very civilised cup of tea and caught up on about 15 odd years worth of news.
At this point I needed Tequila more than at any other point in my entire life and that includes my wedding (oh wait, that was the bottle of Mr Jack my Dad brought along to ease my way down the aisle).
No Tequila was forthcoming and eventually it became clear that my procrastination techniques were wearing gossamer thin.
The white infinity curve was pretty intimidating. When the time came I took a deep breath, dropped the gown and sat down pretty damn fast on the white ottoman. The ottoman was upholstered in something very much like velcro and immediately my ass adhered to it. Like it or not I was stuck there.
What with the tummy pulling in thing and the boobs sticking out thing and the shoulders back and spine straight thing, there was so much to try to remember I forgot to feel scared.
It’s also hard to feel terrified when you keep laughing.
I left feeling curiously upbeat about the whole thing.
It was fun.
Like a roller coaster.
Now of course Q has to make the photos look exquisite.
Can you say Photoshop?
I did and he said it would defeat the purpose.
I said, I really didn’t mind, I am a huge fan of Photoshop, but it didn’t fly.
It was a fantastic experience and by the end I was quite enjoying myself.
Playboy centerfold – HA!
The Blurred Line 