That one time...

Oh, hi! 

I thought I would write a quick blog on why I got into photography! A few years ago, I decided that I was going to change my style up (and yes, it's still changing and I still look like a lowlife most days). But, I embraced the pinup style and threw myself into the culture. I spent weekends playing with my hair. I bought everything I could find that would help me on this path.

One day, many moons ago, I decided to get pin-up photos done. I had been playing around with my own camera for some time but, I wasn't feeling it. 

So, I bought the shoot as a birthday present for myself. I packed an entire suitcase of clothing and heels. I was so nervous that I couldn't eat for two days. 

I went for what I was told would take 2-3 hours and ended up being 5. The girl who took my photos also had to work on my hair and make-up. Her 2.5 year old son was there too. 

He provided some comical relief during the longest ever makeup session. It was raining something fierce and we were in the girls garage (oh, you'll notice I'm not referencing the photographer by name mainly due to the fact that I own the rights to these photos and that she was extremely rude to me, once I started my own photography, sorry- just no.).

Anyways, we were in the garage and it was raining. Her trash can was located outside the garage door, and her son sat at the door the entire time I was getting my makeup done- pushing maggots out the door. Yes, these are the bits and pieces I remember from the shoot. 😱

Anyway, after hours of dolling me up to the point that it was way too much, she worked on my hair. It was okay. It just wasn't me.

Then her friend showed up. And, let me clarify something here. I had done my research on this photographer and noticed in all of the photos she released- people looked odd. She and her friend took photos and they would post them, and they would be stunning! But her actual clients looked- not as good (specifically their facial expressions). I digress. 

Her friend came to help watch her son during the shoot. So we all went to the little area she had set up as the background. And then her 2.5 year old son and the other model friend proceeded to watch everything we did. The son was constantly trying to be in photos too. And, me? I was already nervous. Now I had an audience and I was wearing lingerie. Great. Not.

The results, I will share below. My favorite one is the one on top of the tv. Because, what the hell am I doing?  Please note the looks on my face. I was horrified by these photos- knowing fully well that I had smiled for most photos. I can only see the anxiety in these.

 Anyway, after waiting nearly two months for the photos- they finally arrived. People liked them. I hated them. I wanted to at least be able to see myself in them. I did not. So, I decided one day to see what I could do.

I found a few friends and I tried my best to do their makeup and hair. I'll fully admit that I'm not a stylist or a makeup artist. But, I tried. The shoots were all free.

They weren't perfect- but- they were just for fun. Until, people started to see them and loved them. Then they begged me to do theirs. I started growing and the photos started getting better. I started tweaking the camera to learn how to manipulate it. And, then I became addicted.

After a few months, the photographer I shot with ended up yelling at me - claiming I was stealing her business. She  also thought I had come to her just to learn how to do shoots (lighting and such). 

She did inspire me. She inspired me to grab my camera and try my hardest to make my subjects never feel like they had to wait months for results. She inspired me to film them in ways that left them feeling positive about themselves instead of negative like she had done to me. 

But, I don't think she'd understand that.

Is that a mouse?! 

This is where I learned that shooting a short girl from above makes them look shorter. 

She said I made "sexy" faces. I literally look like I'm saying "eh" here. 

The rest of the photos here aren't bad. None of them are truly horrid in the long run. But, I don't see myself and when I look back- I grimace.

Wondering whether it's sexy or if my stomach is hurting...

"Is someone coming to relieve me of this awkwardness?!?"

This is likely the only photo I received that I was happy with. 

FIN.

 

 

 

 

 
 
 

 

I just need to get this off my chest

Ugh. 

My photography isn't pornographic. The photos I take of myself aren't pornographic either. My hair is the color I want it to be. My make-up is done the way I like it. I choose who I am. I dress how I want. I am who I am. Period. 

I'm so tired of being judged. The person who judges me is "family," though we're not related (and it's obviously not my husband). And, I cannot take it. 

Guess what? I'm not perfect. I like being a weirdo. I like that I am who I am regardless of what others think of me. I proudly make jewelry that many girls wear even though you think nobody wears brooches anymore. I have an industrial piercing that means more to me than just a piece of jewelry. It won't come out of my ear unless it has to come out. 

I spend my life doing everything I can to be a good person. I try to make everyone happy and I do my best to make people feel good about themselves.

And yet, I feel like I'm constantly seen as a piece of shit in this person's eyes because I don't have black hair, a real job, and I shoot pin-up.  I may not cook all the time. I may suck at cleaning and being the perfect housewife that you think all women should be.

There's nothing I can do to change these things. I'll always be this girl. This woman. She is me and I am her. You do not need to approve of me. And, I do not need your approval. But, I just wish you'd stop talking shit about me like I'm completely deaf. 

I already struggle with my self esteem and complete lack of self worth; I would just like to not feel that shame from other's around me. That's all.