Everything I learnt when I posed naked at 49

As someone who hasn’t worn a bikini in 16 years (thanks, kids) I could never have imagined baring more than a “culturally acceptable” amount of flesh in public, let alone stripping off in a room full of strangers. Until last week, when I spent the evening as a life model, naked.

Like most women I know, I’ve always seen the (socially perceived) flaws in my own body. Living in a society that objectifies women and girls from a young age, it’s almost impossible not to grow up seeing yourself as you feel seen by others (men). So when you reach a certain age, and society finally looks the other way, it should feel like a relief – except somehow it doesn’t. As the cliché goes, you just become invisible and instead of feeling the pressure to look “acceptable” (read: desirable) we are simply exhorted to look younger – still to be something other than ourselves.

What is a ‘bikini body’ anyway?Credit: Getty

But now, approaching 50, I realise there are two options: cosmetic surgery (not really an option in a cost-of-living crisis) or acceptance. So, when I saw an ad for life models, it felt like a chance to have a go at acceptance. Either that, or abject humiliation.

So what did I learn when I posed naked in front of 12 complete strangers?

It can be easier to wear nothing than to wear a bikini

The idea that there is such a thing as a “bikini body”, and that only those in possession of said body may wear such teeny-tiny swimwear, has hopefully expired. But that doesn’t mean you will actually wear one – and not just because of the amount of sunscreen involved. Wearing what is essentially underwear on the beach still feels like a statement – even if it’s a statement of body positivity. Easier then, to go without.

You can still push boundaries in midlife

One thing that secretly terrifies me about getting older is an absence of fear.

Not the ticking anxiety of waning hormones, but the kind of comfort-zone-defying fear that freaks you out and makes you feel alive at the same time – solo travelling, jumping off rocks into the sea – the stuff that doesn’t really present itself once you’ve got school pick-up and mortgage payments to worry about. But while my vertebrae may disagree, there’s a part of my brain that’s stuck in adolescence – that still craves new experiences, heightened sensation; that wants to feel afraid and do it anyway. Posing in the buff, while not exactly a high-octane activity, ticked those boxes.

Being naked is surprisingly liberating

Stepping out of my robe was probably the most vulnerable and exposed I have ever felt. But possibly, also the most authentic – although not quite authentic enough to want to expose myself to anyone I might see again (I made sure the studio was at least half an hour from my house). Yet without the back-up of clothing, underwire and elastic, I could be nothing but my true physical self – and do nothing but own it. The same goes for ageing.

Choosing to be seen is empowering

Like a multitude of women, I have compared myself with images in the media and frequently found I don’t measure up. A feeling that has been reinforced by a few delightful individuals throughout my life. In my 20s, one sort-of-boyfriend once told me: “you have to be tall to be beautiful”. I’m 161 cm. Another time, I asked a friend where she’d got her skirt from, and some random bloke remarked, “do you really have the legs for it?” Clearly, I should have just punched him where it hurt. But still, revealing the parts of myself I usually feel compelled to keep covered up felt hugely empowering.

I didn’t feel objectified

Not having modelled before, one of my main concerns (other than recognising someone in the class) was that I wouldn’t be up to the job, and instead of striking a pose, I’d just freeze on the spot. Fortunately, it was only my feet that froze (socks would have been nice). But although I was subject to intense scrutiny, I didn’t feel objectified or sexualised. I was simply being sketched by a group of people who liked to draw. I could just as easily have been a pineapple or pair of sandals.

It was the closest I’ve come to an out-of-body experience

At the start of the evening, I felt ridiculously awkward. A bit like one of those anxiety dreams where you’re in a meeting, then realise you’ve forgotten to put your clothes on. Except this wasn’t a dream; I really was naked – in front of people. But since running away would have been even more embarrassing than pretending I was cool with it, I stayed, while studiously avoiding eye contact. Slowly though, the weirdness was replaced by an almost surreal sense of calm. It was as if in placing my body on display for others, I was able to step away from it, and all my feelings surrounding it. A kind of (art) therapy.

Every body is a work of art

Afterwards, when I looked at the artwork, I didn’t see the midlife, past-its-prime body I usually see. I saw the simple beauty of the human form; kindly drawn shadows and curves; a body I have never seen when looking in the mirror. And I liked it.

My body is changing, but that’s OK

Mum-boobs, stretch marks, saggy stomach; the collateral damage of pregnancy, child-rearing and, well, midlife. Seeing it on paper was a reminder that I can’t prevent these changes, but I can embrace them and be grateful for a functioning body.

My kids will always think I’m weird

Somewhat predictably, the reactions of my three children (aged 10, 13 and 16) ranged from: “Are you going to wax?” to “that’s sooooo gross!” to “what if my friends find out?” Pushing my kids’ boundaries though can only be a good thing. And it makes a change from telling my daughter to pull her school skirt down so it actually covers her buttocks. And repeat. Oh, and nudity pays. It’s not quite OnlyFans but I made $75, and would definitely do it again.

The Telegraph

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