Boudoir Bombshell, or everything I know I learned from Tyra.
So Monday night, some of my fave girls and I had a gno-with a twist. My lovely friend Sarah set up a Boudoir shoot at a local photography studio. And since, I’ll try anything once-I was totally in.
Also? Have any of you ever tried to take a sexy photo of yourself? With a 10 second self timer? It’s hard, really. One of the times J was in Iraq, I decided I would send him a sexy pic of myself. Which on its own is a really funny concept. I’m not so much sexy, more silly. So I did my hair and makeup and put on a silky slip type thing. And because I thought it would be awkward to ask a friend to come take pics of me attempting hotness (and partially naked), I decided I could do it myself with the 10 second timer thingy on my camera.
Ever done this? Ummm, it’s hard enough to pose seductively in filmy fabric that doesn’t so much hide tummy issues or lift boobs but try it when you only have 10 seconds to literally run and pose, suck in, stick out and attempt to hide chins. Not the best idea I ever had.
Plus? I’m pretty sure I gave myself a concussion. In the running, which we all know is not my forte, I tripped over a pair of shoes and hit my head on the dresser. Concussions? Not sexy.
So if you’re sitting there laughing at what an idiot I am, which-let’s face it, is partly true, go right now and try to be sexy while taking photos of yourself.
Don’t worry. I’ll wait.
Are you gone? Go. Right. Now.
Are you back?
If you feel tired or see spots or have a headache, get off this blog immediately and call 911. I would feel terrible if I was responsible for any of you slipping into a coma. Or something. I don’t even know if those are the right signs for a coma and I’m banned from WebMD so if you want to go check your symptoms and come back-I’ll STILL be here.
Anyways…we’ve had this planned for about a month now and since I kept forgetting to give up food and schedule a tummy tuck/boob lift, I thought perhaps a bra would solve all my problems. (I did religiously use self-tanner and even incorporated bratchild to rub it on my upper back where I can’t reach no matter how I contort. (I have limited neck movement on one side-probably from ramming my head into a solid piece of wood furniture in my own misguided attempt at bringing back the sexy, well sending it to Iraq anyways.)
So I went to Victoria’s Secret to try on their new bombshell bra that promises to increase your boobs by 2 sizes. Since I’m already a D-cup, I was expecting to look like I’d had an amazing boob job. Well, I looked like I’d had a boob job, just the Heidi Montag unfortunate version. Since I thought taking an actual picture of myself would be indecent, I created a drawing to give you an idea:
(And it’s my drawing so I can make myself as shapely as I want-the boobs are in actual perspective. Using them as a flotation device I could have single-handedly rescued each and every person on the Titanic.)
The bra? Is ALL PADDING. There is nowhere for your boobs to go. I was laughing so hard and howling to the point where I was waiting for them to kick me out of the store. (Shut up. I’ve been kicked out of a store before. It was a Gap. For calling the salesperson gay AFTER he already told me he was gay. The store manager heard us laughing and called me a bigot and said The Gap doesn’t tolerate discrimination. Ummm. I’m probably the least bigoted person on the PLANET when it comes to gay men. I lurve them. I think I’ve had more gay boyfriends than most gay men have. AND THEN, the Gap changed all their jeans AGAIN and made them crazy unflattering and unless you are 12, your clitoris peeks out of them they are so low cut. GOOD GOD I forgot how pissed off I was at The Gap. Plus? They won’t give you hangers and that irks me as I won’t use wire hangers. But I don’t like beat bratchild with them or anything. They just hold clothing poorly and are bad for fabric and make weird pokey marks. Okay. End random rant.) (Also, you should hand wash your cashmere with baby shampoo rather than dry cleaning it as dry cleaning chemicals are BAD for cashmere.) (You’re welcome.)
ANYWAYS, back to the nudity. I’m a little fixated on America’s Next Top Model. Yes, I realize this makes me 12. If you read my 100 Things you already know that I pretend interview myself ALL THE TIME. Ummm…I also pretend practice the model challenges and poses. And yes, sadly, I also imagine what I would discuss in my one on one, heartfelt confessionals. Jen Lancaster addressed this in her most recent book and I agree-sometime Tyra is going to have the old and fat edition of ANTM and I will be ready, along with Jen. And I’ll need to become a famous supermodel after I end up divorced and it’s ALL JEN’S FAULT. More on that later. But I don’t want to be on Seventeen, I prefer InStyle or Marie Claire. Obviously.
Despite the fact that I’m not really terribly modest, it was a little awkward at first. But then I drank wine. And then I became a supermodel. I was all about the “smizing” and the constant little changes in poses that Nigel always talks about. I was concentrating on the Barbie toe and angles and sticking my neck out like a chicken. And yeah, I know I sound ridiculous but dude that whole sticking your neck out thing TOTALLY hides chins and in pictures, you can’t even tell. Unlike when people tilt their head way up or down-that’s totally obvious.
And in all honesty I had such a wonderful time and the photographer was the bomb and totally put up with our hijinks and general hilarity. So I wasn’t bothered by some extra curves and whatnot. Because my friends? We’re hot. And my hubs thinks I am full of the hotness and that’s what really matters. Cause being comfortable with yourself and in your own skin and with your friends? WAY sexier than lingerie and anything else out there. And I, for one, can’t wait to see the pics.
(I also TOTALLY duct-taped my boobs for the first time ever and it probably would’ve have worked out better had I not been, a. hot and sweaty and b. greased up with 2 kinds of lotion. HOW had I never done that before?)
We’re missing one who was posing at the time we took this.
© Amy Lloyd Mayfield and Amy’s Blam, 2010. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Amy Lloyd Mayfield and Amy’s Blam with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.