Apology
“I’m sorry,” I say.
(I joke that I say it so much because I’m a Canadian, but the sad truth is, it’s because I’m a woman.)
It starts before I’m even out the door.
”Sorry. This is something I have to do for me.”
As I drive towards the photography studio, my brain starts taking account of all the things I’m doing/did wrong.
“My armpits are too dark.”
”My skin is too dry.”
”I have some new pimples on my jaw.”
”I should have shaved my legs.”
”My hair is too frizzy.”
”I should have packed different clothes.”
”The scars on my knees are too visible.”
”Maybe I should wear the tummy tucking panties instead of the lacy thong.”
”Agh, I should have gotten a bodysuit instead of two piece sets.”
”I should have drank more water.”
”I needed to stretch more.”
By the time I arrive I have accumulated a list that could have been longer had I not parked.
Regardless what time I arrive, I apologize:
“Sorry, I’m early.”
”Sorry, I’m a few minutes late.”
I lay out my clothes and immediately apologize:
I’m sorry.
I brought too much color.
I didn’t bring enough color.
I should have brought more lace.
I should have brought more strappy bits.
I didn’t bring enough.
I brought too much.
My photographer just smiles and assures me that what I brought was fine and perfect.
She asks me “How do you want to show up? What do YOU want to wear?”
I say:
“I’m sorry….I have no idea. I kind of really like this one……but what do you think?”
I’m thinking it might not be “right” for a photoshoot now that I see it. I watch my photographer’s face.
She smiles.
“Perfect. Now, let’s get you set up with hair and makeup!”
“So, what would you like for hair and makeup?”
My eyes widen.
“Oh, goodness! I am so sorry. I have no idea.”
They assure me that that is okay and show me some images of makeup. I point to the second image they show me. I like the amount of makeup she has on.
As soon as I choose, I realize that I may not look like her, so maybe it wasn’t a good decision.
I should point out all the reasons why it might not work.
“I’m sorry I have some hair on my chin. I have a hormonal condition.”
(my stylist assures me that it doesn’t matter)
“I’m sorry my pores are too big...”
(my stylist assures me there is no such thing)
“I’m sorry I have such a weird skin color”
(my stylist assures me that variations in skin color are what make the world beautiful as she pulls out a wide variety of colors from her kit)
“I’m sorry my hair is too:
thick
thin
curly
straight
frizzy
short
long”
My stylist convinces me that my features are normal.
That the texture of my skin and hair is normal.
That I am normal.
(But then I start to think,
maybe I should apologize for being too normal….?)
After I am done in hair and makeup, it’s time for my photoshoot.
As my photographer takes me through the warm up, my head floods with things I think I should bring up
I begin to apologize for
my inability to follow direction
”Sorry, I forgot what you said…”
my lack of posing knowledge
”Oh, I’m so sorry I don’t know what I’m doing…”
my awkward facial expressions
”I’m sorry, I don’t know how to hold my face…”
my body’s limitations
”I’m sorry, I injured my knee so I can’t do that…”
She thanks me for sharing my limitations and concerns with her and immediately adapts what we are doing.
She reassures me countless times that I do not need to apologize for just showing up.
She reassures me that it is not my job to be a professional model.
She reassures me that she will take care of me, but I must trust her.
She reassures me that the day is for me and about me, so adaptation is par for the course.
She reassures me that this is how ALL sessions go.
(I’m starting to believe her)
The apologies stop.
Once the session is over, I start to pack up my things
With every garment that goes back in the bag and my old self starts to return
my apologies start to come back.
In goes my bodysuit
“I’m sorry I’m taking so long to pack up”
In goes my bra
“I’m sorry if I was stiff today”
In goes my shoes
“I’m sorry that I have to wash off this makeup”
I come back for my reveal, to see my photos.
“I’m sorry if I’m nervous.”
My photographer lets me know that that is completely normal.
She walks me through what to expect when it comes to seeing my photos.
As she is talking all I can think about is how much I will need to apologize for not liking myself in the photos.
Then, she reassures me that I have permission to not like the photos.
What?
I trust her.
I see myself in a new way.
As we go through the photos together, I apologize for
Liking too many photos of myself
Not liking certain photos of myself
Taking too long
Going too quick
Choosing too many
Spending too much money on myself
Being too excited
My glorious album of images shows up at my house.
It’s like seeing myself for the first time again.
I being to apologize:
“I’m sorry I didn’t talk nicer to you.”
*
”I’m sorry I didn’t see you as valuable.”
*
”I am so sorry I never respected you the way you deserved.”
*
”I’m sorry I’ve been treating you poorly.”
*
”I’m sorry I pinched, squished, and yelled at you.”
*
”But most importantly, I’m sorry I didn’t realize that all you wanted was for me to accept you for who and what you are.”
(and that’s when I stopped apologizing.)
