I want to relate a recent event involving this
book which was very humbling and revealing. When my editor and I decided that I
would pose naked for the cover, at first I felt excited. Within days, however,
excitement turned into anxiety, and anxiety quickly evolved into fear. As my
stomach churned, and insomnia set in, I knew I needed some private time (Step
8) to understand what was going on. Initially I thought it was fear of who the photographer might be.
It’s hard enough to bond with a photographer when dressed. The last thing I
wanted was to find myself uncomfortable with someone—and naked. I
reminded myself to practice what I preach—that it was about how I felt about
myself. If I felt good naked, that’s all that should matter, my comfort would
be evident in the picture. I was even able to laugh at the irony of my
predicament. Yet the fear lingered. Deep down, I knew that my anxiety was not
just about the photographer. I traveled to the next layer of fear. Embracing my body in
the course of normal everyday life is one thing. Plastering it on the cover of
a book is quite another. I continued to fret. At my most exposed, I had to
admit that I feared all of my old hard-body friends thinking I looked…well,
fat. I could just hear people saying:
"Did you see Laure’s book?"
"Yeah, can you believe how heavy she is?"
"I can’t believe she would ever let anyone photograph her naked,
looking like that.”
"That takes guts."
We all know that true friends would never make proclamations like
that. But fear-induced mindsets die hard, even when you combat them daily for a
living. I decided to call my photographer
friend, Jerry Schatzberg, and talk to him. Jerry is a talented photographer and filmmaker
who was working on a project which showcased female nudes. His focus was on finding the unique beauty in every woman, no matter what
her shape or size. When I first viewed Jerry's photographs for this project, I was struck how these female forms, without a face looked more like pieces of fruit or
fabulous landscapes. He had photographed a number of women and their bodies could not have been more different. One had really wild
scars. One was quite overweight. Yet through the vision of his lens, they all
looked truly beautiful. Jerry and I talked about our shared mission to help
women feel good about their bodies. I knew I wanted to be his next subject.
My body, at that time, was a work of art, in some ways more
masculine than feminine with all of its tone and definition. I found working out to be
healing therapy, I was also training clients, as well as choreographing my new
video series. Yet even with a buff body, and an understanding photographer who
went out of his way to make me feel comfortable, I was terrified the first hour
of the shoot. Then Jerry said something that caught me completely off guard. He
asked me to stand up straighter. I did a double-take. Me—the posture-perfect
girl— slouching? He saw my raised eyebrows and shared that one way women
exhibit their fear of being naked is to try and minimize their bodies by
collapsing their shoulders and rounding their spines. I suddenly flashed on all
those naked bodies in the locker room of my studio—all slouched over and
scurrying to quickly cover themselves. It’s a myth, of course, that hunching
over does anything to mitigate the impact of a naked body. I realized that if I
was going to pose nude, I might as well stand up tall and quit acting like I
was in freshman P.E. class. It’s amazing what this simple body adjustment did for my attitude and perspective. By
the second hour, it felt completely natural, actually fun to be naked.
When my photo session ended, I told Jerry about the mental roller coaster I had
experienced during the session, and the power of adjusting my posture. He
listened knowingly, and acknowledged my courage. I left his apartment feeling
like I had bungee-jumped off the Chrysler building. What a kick it was to see my pictures. Was that really my body?
The forms were so beautiful, artistic, long and languid. I felt very proud of
myself. Jerry shared stories about the other women he had photographed,
discussing the fear and aversion that all women experience at the notion of
being naked. I was awestruck by the power of being comfortable naked, and the
way good-old-fashioned posture helped me cast away fear and embrace the full
beauty of my body. Unfortunately, in my crisis over posing for this book, I was
having serious trouble remembering the simple wisdom I had gleaned from that
first photo session. I called Jerry and talked about my book cover. A conflict of schedules made it impossible for him to do the photo shoot.
But he agreed that my naked image was the perfect concept for the cover. I told him "You don’t know what I look like now. My body is
not the same body you photographed before."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, I’m much more womanly…in fact, 20 pounds more
womanly."
"Laure, do you remember what you said to me when I
photographed you then?"
"What?"
"You warned me that you had a boy’s body and that it wasn’t
very feminine."
I laughed and said, "Well, now it’s pure femininity."
He replied, "Good, because your voice sounds happy, and you
seem much calmer. Stand up straight and you’ll be beautiful."
Talking to Jerry brought back other memories. I realized that my former younger body wasn’t necessarily a comfortable body to live in. I remembered how
aggressive and tense I had felt in my perfectly taut shape. In retrospect, my
body, 20 pounds ago, felt separate from my female soul. It did not feel
nurtured or nourished. Impressive, yes, but not fully integrated with my female
spirituality. We hung up and I thought about his comments.
Of course, he was right. I am more content in my life today, and
my body is a reflection of that peace and serenity. I no longer crave three hours at the gym each day. Most important, when I don’t focus on what others
will think of the way I look, which is a huge waste of time and energy anyway,
I feel great naked. And I do feel more sensual and feminine with
the extra pounds I now carry. I emerged from my brief lapse into old thought patterns ready to
show off my lusty, luscious, full-fleshed self. I found a woman photographer
named Sharon Amestoy who seemed to share Jerry’s appreciation of the female
form. She also related to the mission of my book. The photo session was a wonderful experience. I strode onto the
set, head high, shoulders back, chin up, acting like the hostess of my own very
exclusive soiree. I could have been carrying 40 extra pounds and not cared.
Since the support crew was all female, the best parts of the day were the
conversations that ensued about the female body. I hope you can see in the
final cover photograph how confident and comfortable I felt that day. What I keep coming back to is how women are so much more alike
than different. We all think about the same issues regarding our bodies. We all
fret and worry about the way our thighs look, our stomachs bulge, our bosoms
differ, our buttocks spread, our fleshy arms, our thick backs, our full faces.
And at the end of this vicious destructive cycle, we hopefully learn, before we
die, that our true value as human beings has nothing to do with how much we
weigh or what size clothes we wear. What matters is our health, our strength, our integrity, our
opinion, our sense of self-worth, our love for others, our contributions to the
world we live in, and our acceptance of ourselves as individuals. Our ability
to walk tall and proud into any room, any time, with or without an escort, while
remaining authentic to ourselves. Because every woman deserves to feel good naked.
