My Topless Photo Shoot

Not long ago, I was asked to have some shots done. I didn’t really want to, but I also kind of did. I hesitantly made an appointment for today. I had been anxious about it for awhile, but at the same time getting it done would feel liberating. Because it was below zero degrees outside, I was dressed in many warm layers. I couldn’t imagine that in a short time, those clothes would be off and there would be no secrets held between me and film any longer.

I checked in at the front desk and was led to a room where I was asked to dress in just a robe. I was led to yet another room where the pictures would be taken. The room was dark and quiet. It was just myself and the person clicking the camera. She was a pleasant blonde, who demonstrated the poses she wanted me to mimic. Watching her made me feel as though I was too small, that I would have nothing to show. But it was in fact showtime. She stepped back and it was my turn. I had a half dozen positions she wanted me in, and I did them. I did them well.

After the first set she asked me to come and look at what she captured. She told me I did not have what she was looking for. So I did it again, and again and again. Then it was over. She led me to yet another room where she told me to wait, but not to dress yet. If the head honcho saw what he was looking for, he would request me to pose again.

Those few minutes were awful. I was deep in thought when she arrived back into the room, also dimly lit. “Why were all these rooms so dark?” I wondered as she prepared to deliver the descision.

“Kristiane, you have nothing to worry about. The mammogram came out fine.”

Whew! Ladies and gentlemen…well mostly ladies: It was not that bad. I was honestly expecting awful pain and tears and screams. Actually, had I not seen the photos, I would not have thought about it again ever. But, they were actually quite lovely. Or however you describe female’s upper chest region. I mean, you only get the black and white outline of the thing on a computer screen, but if they’d let me, I’d order a set. Don’t get me wrong, I would never show anyone. But, I’d love to have a reminder of my first topless photo shoot.


About kristiane

killing spiders with my laser eyes.
This entry was posted in blogging, Blogroll, fashion, happiness, health, how to, internet, Life, science and tagged . Bookmark the permalink.

10 Responses to My Topless Photo Shoot

  1. anna says:

    Oh my gosh… You had me reading in utter shock for the first half of this blog and now I am laughing my head off…

  2. I agree. You’re such a tease, kb.

  3. Amy says:

    You are too clever.

  4. essaytch says:

    Oh lord. I’m w/ Anna…thought you might have, well, found a “side job”. Glad it was just a little boob-squishing in the end. And that it went well.

  5. stephanie says:

    you are so funny. i thought you found a chilly way to make some extra cash.

    happy your boobs are fine!

  6. Billy says:

    Holy Hannah! I am counting the blessings. Very clever but don’t do that again!


  7. tg says:

    I’d buy that magazine and keep it under my mattress.

  8. Pammy Girl says:

    I had my first mammogram last summer… how much fun is it to be felt up by some random woman who then squashes your goods like pancakes? Best 10 minutes of my life up to that point. 🙂

  9. Michele says:

    That was great!

    I too thought my mammogram images were lovely. I really wanted a set to keep for myself. I think they need to start offering the option for prints.

    I was completely amazed at how they came out and that there was NO PAIN.

  10. This was priceless. As a guy, I doubt I’ll ever have an experience that comes close to this (prostate exams have a totally different source of hilarity). But I have to say, that something about this just touched a nerve. Really really good post.

Leave a Reply to tg Cancel reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s