Your Age

 

 

large photo by Beverly Couper
#letyouragebecomeyou

I’ve been doing some writing for another publication. I can’t publish it here because it’s exclusive to them, but if they choose not to use it, I’ll be popping it up for you to see. I enjoyed writing it so much!

It’s all about curves and confidence, and the circuitous path it took my soul to find a way for both to exist simultaneously in my world. When I was younger, I had no idea that curves would eventually be such a useful part of my self-esteem. I had no idea that the things I hated about my body would become things that I celebrate. How did that happen? How did I get from self-loathing to self-loving?

I had a massive reality check in the experience of living with Pandysautonomia.  A gift of sorts, in the way that all the most memorable life learning can be simultaneously painful, difficult and uplifting.

It made me realise that there are body issues which transcend the petty concerns of comparison. It made me feel the sting of all the time I had wasted on self-criticism, there in front of the mirror, thinking about all the ways people would disapprove of my dimensions. So ridiculous. Mum used to tell me when I was a teenager, that most of the time, other people wouldn’t even be thinking of what my body looked like. That it was a kind of vanity to assume they were. I was convinced there must be others like me. That they were studying every other like-aged-girl to see what was ‘normal’, hoping that they could become it by studying it in all its minutae.  Hoping to find the magic code for ‘cool’ so we could programme ourselves to be so.

I couldn’t be. I was far too tall and generous of beam to ever fit the narrow-hipped, slim legged archetype of the eighties fashion teen; those oversized tops and legwarmers only looked good on petite little things. I didn’t yet understand that being a six foot tall woman required a certain level of bravado. That you need to own your height, your wiggle.  That the most uncool thing of all isn’t wearing a home-made dress, but being a mouseling in a giantess’ body. I had no idea that confidence and ease are the symptom of a simple choice you make. To accept your unique self, no matter how different you are to the established norm. Being free within your own expression of DNA to be your own kind of beautiful.  I wish I’d known that back then.

I could have done a lot with my gorgeous young self that was left undone, all because I didn’t understand. No amount of wishing, dieting, exercising, hoping, slouching, yearning or moping was ever going to change the facts.

I am a giantess.

Fast forward to my middle age… I’m so proud of being built this way. My size has become a bankable commodity since I started plus-size modelling last year. My confidence comes from finally getting it. I’m this person. Who you see is me. All of me. I wear my love of cake in my curves. I wear my love for people in my smile and the wrinkles around my eyes. And I wear my heart on my sleeve, because that is just who I am. No filter. No problem.

Some people love these things about me, and others don’t… and that’s no problem too. I can’t change a thing about it.  I’m happy, at last, in my own skin. Happy to be who I am, in a body that functions. Happy to be surrounded by people I love and to know that above all things, that’s the most beautiful thing of all. He tangata. Happy to be the age I am. To know the things I know. To leave behind me the pointless self-flaggelation of living to the standards of others. It’s a kinder, freer way to live. It makes space within my noisy head for more useful thoughts… the sort that create and feed and nurture me. Building me up to do the same for others.

I’m starting a hashtag across my social media, because I think we don’t celebrate nearly enough, all the ways that age can be ‘becoming’ to women. I’m all about the notion that beauty is relative to your soul, and sometimes, that takes a long time to understand. How are you letting age become you? What are you noticing about yourself that you finally GET, that you didn’t appreciate about yourself when you were younger?

#letyouragebecomeyou

Every Woman

On Sunday I was flown to Sydney for the 2015 Autograph Curvy Model Search test shoot. I’ve written about what’s been happening here, here and here… and yesterday was the highlight of the amazing journey I have been on. It’s been so exciting!  I know some of you are keen for the lowdown, so here’s a little peek into my day being an ‘international curvy model’ (squeeee!)

Rachel, Lauren M & Rowena

“Maybe you could just photoshop that arm,” I self-consciously joked with the Marketing Manager for Autograph.
“No!” admonished Alexa, her corkscrew curls shaking emphatically, “We want real women!”  and I fell in love with that lady right there and then.

There were three women on the monitor in front of us.  One of them was me, 41, a wife, mumma and writer. My arms are roundy, like my Grandma’s used to be.  Baker’s arms, dimpled and soft like a warm bun.  Those arms make my embraces comforting. Then there’s Rowena, 25, a cop, daughter and girlfriend.  Her tiny waist curves the way down to her voluptuous rear end. But hers is not a standard pear-shape figure, no… she’s all spicy pear! The kind of wiggle when she walks that makes all the guys look.  And then there is Lauren, 26, a wife and mum to two under three, working for an airline. Cheekbones to make Pocahontas insecure and a figure with all the right oomph in all the right places, including a little curve on the tum, that beautiful space where she carried a baby just one year ago.  Our ethnic backgrounds are diverse.  I am a kiwi Pakeha.  My genes fetching me down through generations from the viking clans, through the British Isles and to my Aoteoroa.  Rowena is a Samoan Australian and Lauren, an multiracial-Australian. We are all testament to the antipodean pull of the decades; our families settled us in the lucky countries. We’re Tasman neighbours and new friends. We are every woman. Our bodies express our life experiences. We represent some of the vibrant spectrum of plus sized women down under.

Today, we’ve gathered here, from across Australia and New Zealand.  Altogether we are ten, chosen from more than 4,500 entries. The studio space is incredible. Hanging plants and exposed brickwork in an impossibly funky foyer space.  There’s a portrait photography exhibition in the foyer/cafe; the whole venue oozes artsy cool. Our studio is huge. A concrete curved backdrop arcs up the double height wall. The equipment is extraordinarily technical. When I first arrived and walked past all the monitors, lights, stands and foam partitions,  I realised what an out-of-the-ordinary day awaited me.

Ahead of me, the other girls had swished into the waiting area.  There were leather chairs and sofas, a big table, lighted makeup mirrors and all the trappings that attend a shoot. Clothing racks bedecked in bright summer colours, accessories in a jumble, a big bowl full of sparkling waters and Italian soda. The food had already begun to arrive.  Sourdough with avocado, goats cheese, tomatoes and basil.  Tiny little granola and yoghurt pots. Bamboo spoons. Fruit platters bigger than Carmen Miranda could handle.

It was all so chic!

I introduced myself to the makeup team and then to Nicola, the marketing rep from Autograph. She is all cool sophistication. Ruler straight caramel hair, groovy glasses, structured tunic, stovepipe crops and pretty flats. She is warm, too. Friendly and welcoming. I felt all fluttery and excited but also strangely relaxed. The atmosphere in the studio echoed the brand… all bright, comfy; happiness.  I found myself exhaling and letting myself go with it all. I could barely believe I was really there.

The clothes I saw on the rack were my kinds of clothes. Tunics, floaty dresses, crop pants. There were the necklaces that help bigger girls achieve outfit balance. Clinky bracelets and dangly earrings. I was in my fashion comfort zone. And the colours!  Deep cobalt and coral, apricot pink and sunshine yellow, jade and aquamarine. The happy colours of summer. I kept taking deep breaths and trying to memorise the moments before they slipped me by. I heard Richard the photographer asking about a light test, so I volunteered to step into the studio space. He sticks down two strips of tape on the floor (my ‘mark’) and I stand there, ready for him to set up his equipment. I love that moment, the first moment there in front of the camera.

He feels strangely close yet far away, a familiar stranger, connected to me via the invisible line between the camera’s lens and my iris. In the second the photographer bends to his lens, it’s just him and me. I am imagining what he is seeing.  Smiling at him through the lens. I think, Hello over there, Richard! He smiles back.

Rachel Mowbray (11)

After adjusting the flash and moving some of the foam walls, he said “Why don’t we just do this?” and that’s how it started, I was having my test shoot! I felt giddy with happiness, floating around my mark in a coral embroidered kaftan. I felt beautiful. Someone blew cool air towards me from a gap in the movable walls.  It made my hair blow back from my face, just so. And the coolness was so welcome under the lights.

I still can’t get over being able to stand for this long. To feel the energy coursing through my body. It makes my heart sing, this freedom to move. It’s not that long ago that I could not have done this and the familiar gratitude fills my heart. It is so easy for me to smile.  Who wouldn’t? The joy of life bubbles up and engulfs me. I want to giggle. A girly giggle for all the girly goodness I am experiencing. I am modelling! I am blown away by all this. So lucky. So incredibly grateful!  For health, for opportunities, for this life of surprises and soulfood. Thank you, I think.
Just thank you, for this. For all of this loveliness.

Rachel Mowbray (29)

The day passed after that in a giddy blur.  Two more shoots happened. I met my Australian modelling agent, Ekke, and the Vivien’s Model Management boss, Catherine.  They felt like family within minutes. We talked about the lovely people at 62 Models in Auckland.  We sipped on our Italian sodas and organic juices. A lavish lunch arrived. There was time to chat and selfie with all the girls; every one, a beauty, inside and out.

Every now and then I felt old. Eleven years separated me from the nearest in age to me.  All the other girls were in their twenties, fresh of face and firm of curve. I felt a little intimidated in flashes, and then I just told my brain to shut up. It was the only way. To stop that inner critic so I could enjoy being myself. I’ve been practising it a lot more lately. Once I’d silenced my self-sabotage-software, I enjoyed just being there with them, sharing their youthful energy and infectious laughter. We all changed into a second outfit for a small group shoot. I was grouped with Rowena and Lauren, all of us in gorgeous summer dresses.  It’s impossible not to feel breezy and beautiful in Autograph clothes. I linked arms with them and felt their warm energy, their hearts hammering in unison with mine in that small space. We joked with each other and the laughter came easy. I am glad I have had the chance to meet them.  Impossibly lustrous hair, velvety skins, clear healthy eyes. There’s that familiar internal self pinching again.  Was I really there with those beauties? It made me smile.

Rachel, Lauren M & Rowena (7)

Group (25)

All of these women are not just beautiful because of their outward curvy lusciousness. They’re not just beautiful because of the expert hair and makeup attention they’ve received today. They’re beautiful because of the lives they live, the families they love, the work they do, the women they are. Like me, they’re representing every woman. Women like you. I wish I could have had you all there with me in that studio yesterday. I wish you, too, could have been treated to makeup artists and hair stylists and friendly warm people making you feel like a million bucks. You there, with the roundy arms, or defiant boobage. You, with the mumma tum, the wobbly bum. You are woman, and you are beautiful.

I hope you feel beautiful today. X

I HOPE YOU

 

The Business

I love the Flight of the Conchords.  Whenever I hear the word ‘business’ I want to just sing this song:  “It’s Bidness Time”… tee hee.  Here’s the song, because it makes me laugh so much.  But the business I’m talking about today is a very different kind…

The business of living is the opposite to what I have always thought. We think we know what this life holds for us. We’re that arrogant… or that foolish. We let the past and how things have always been build a logical picture of what will be. As if this life has a formula that makes solid, mathematical sense. Except it never does. Life’s twists and turns are complex, unpredictable and often quite weird. Less maths than chaos.  Less logic than creative. But we persist in thinking we know what’s coming. If only we could use that belligerent belief as a more positive force! But we don’t. We know better.

We map our futures and determine the course of our days as if we’re in charge. Pah! You know how it goes… because this happened, that will happen… because I’m this kind of person, that will never happen… because I’m doomed to failure I will fail… because nothing ever goes right for me… because our family genes are messed up… because good things only happen to other people… because that doctor said I could never… because there is only one possible pathway  (as if there is a sat-nav for the soul!)… because you can’t make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear… because. Just because.

And a thousand other silly statements we make to ourselves. A daily manifesto of negative expectations. Have you thought about being a little less human about it all? I’ve been trying lately to just stop analysing. To stop telling myself how it is going to turn out. To live in this moment instead of the next, or the last. I guess it’s part of the letting go. Humans are so expert at making meaning out of experiences. We test our hypotheses all the time with self fulfilling prophesies. Limiting ourselves based on what we know. But what about all the things that we don’t know we don’t know? The infinite combination of possibilities outside our ken?

A girl I have talked about a lot on this blog is Michelle Roger. I rave about her because she is truly wonderful. When I was lost in my diagnosis, her blog lit the exits out of my spiralling mindset. She’s been battling Dysautonomia for so long, she’s given it a name. He’s the unwelcome Bob, who lives with them. He’s an arse. He gives her jip. You can find her blog here. And even though her case is severe and complex, Michelle keeps doing the things she loves; anyway. She is a gifted writer who recently won a mentorship with Writer’s Victoria. She performed one of her pieces at the Emerging Writer’s Festival last year, and again this year. She’s been published. She carries on, and takes opportunities, even when most bystanders would say “how are you going to manage that?”. Somehow, that’s how. Somehow, anyhow. She’s a woman I admire. She’s a modern day Frida, making her art from the truth and pain of her experience. And she’s funny too, if you like a bit of the quirky/classy/smart, you’ll love her.

When I had a phone call yesterday from Vivien’s Modelling Management, telling me they’d like to sign me, and that 62 Models, here in New Zealand would too, my little brain expanded a bit. What an incredible opportunity! A whoppertunity! It’s so exciting to think that what I am, what I have; all of me, might be useful in a different way to what I thought. It aligns with my values around diversity, and being able to find the work that works for you. It gives me work in short bursts, with opportunities to recover in between. It will bring income back into our home. And one day, it might even be a platform for more awareness. A thought that surprises me. I never imagined this kind of thing. It was outside my experience and beyond my self-belief. I didn’t know that this opportunity could happen for someone like me. It wasn’t in the plan.

So. How will I manage? I don’t know. I just will, somehow! I’ll be picking the brains of my friend Helena, an established model friend who is also a Dysautonomia chick. I’ll take the advice of Claire, who had a classic response when I asked my friends that question yesterday. I am so fortunate to have a group of gals in my Dysautonomia community who have become very important friends to me. We chat online; they know all the ups and the downs of my journey, just as I know theirs. They get it all, and they are resoundingly positive. It fills me with good cheer. Claire said:
“-Silly! You’ll do it the way you do everything else – with a smile, kick ass attitude, and much complaining to us, about how fucking hard it is…” haha. Yep. I think I will. My girls have got my back. How much joy like-minded souls bring to this life. Solidarity and sisterhood. It’s important everywhere you go.

Last year I wrote a piece about my indomitable Granny (Her Stellar Career). It’s a good read if you have been feeling like your dreams are out of reach. She knows a fair bit at the ripe old age of 93. When I told her about this modelling thing, she twinkled and said “Dear, would you introduce me to them so they can sign me too?” 🙂  I think I’ve been learning her lessons. Because instead of sitting back and feeling like this life has passed me by, even though I might be forgiven for doing that, I am taking action. Like Michelle. Like Joyce. Getting busy with The Business of Now.

How are you at living in this moment?
Do you worry a lot about the future?
Do you think you know what it holds?
Let go a bit.  Let go and let life take you somewhere you never expected…