As if she had sensed my body issues and wanted to ease them, she handed me the paper and said she thought I might like to have one of the pieces of art she had worked on. As I was putting on my shoes, an old lady with a head full of white hair that had been drawing me came over with a folded paper. When I was finally done, I got up and began to get dressed. My humanness was what intrigued these artists. My abdominal muscles relaxed and more of my pudge showed, but I was growing comfortable with it. I actually started wondering what I should eat afterwards. I forgot about my belly fat and the puberty-induced stretch marks that covered my butt. During the next session, my mind started to feel at ease. Then it was back to work for another hour. I had been so analytical of my shortcomings, but they appeared oblivious to them and instead honed in on aspects of my physicality that I gave very little thought. I was astonished by what these strangers thought. They told me they had never had a model as exotic as me. They loved shading my caramel skin and drawing my Indian features. I had been afraid of people thinking my body was inadequate, but the exact opposite was true. I chatted with the group and they all told me how impressed they were with my ability to twist into the pose I held and they told me how grateful they were because it allowed them to draw angles that they hadn't before. I had been afraid of people thinking my body was inadequate, but the exact opposite was true.Īfter one hour was up, I was given a quick break. With that in mind, I began to emotionally relax into the yoga-like pose I was twisted into, although after a while my body started to ache from sitting in such a manner for so long. Their eyes darted quickly between my body and their canvases. I was able to make out the expressions on a few faces of the artists through my peripheral vision, and they were focused intently. These lights were hot and I was sweating, and the hair wasn't helping! Were these artists upset about having such an ugly model who was clearly unqualified but dared to pose for them? I started wondering if I I should have shaved completely instead of leaving a little hair down there. I was scared they were judging me, and I kept wanting to look towards the belly pudge I've always had, no matter how many sit-ups I did or miles I ran. For one hour, I stared at the same section of the wall. The group asked me to do a few poses, before they settled on the one that would make for the best art. The organizer introduced me quickly, and I undressed and sat down in a pre-staged area in front of the easels. I felt better knowing it wasn't just a bunch of dudes perving around, and the fact that the group wasn't made up of people with perfect bodies straight out of Fashion Week helped, too. The group was half men and half women, and they were of all different ages and shapes. They all had large easels in front of them and were chatting casually with each other. There were about 10 people, half men, half women, sitting around in half circle. Was this even safe? What if there was a serial killer behind the door? If I was art-modeling at a proper college that might be slightly classy, but this was Meetup, for crying out loud. On the day of the class, I arrived at the organizer's home. I'm not entirely sure why - maybe this creative period of my life was opening me up to new ideas, maybe I was rebelling against the suppression I felt from growing up in a conservative family - but I emailed the group organizer telling him that I had never modeled before but was interested. I decided to join an art group on, and on one of these Meetup boards, I saw a post asking for a model. If they had no self-confidence issues, then why should I?Īround the same time I was preoccupied with these thoughts, I started taking drawing, painting, and photography classes at my local community college after work. I've met plenty of men who hardly look like Ryan Gosling but still strut their stuff and don't think twice of what anyone else thinks. But I wanted to have a healthier relationship with it. Like many women, I've spent a lot of time criticizing my body: I'm too fat.
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