Being Art

Last night I had the pleasure of modelling for a life art class in Huntingdon.

It’s a fabulous thing to do.  It’s one of the few times where it genuinely doesn’t matter what size or shape you are, you will still be appreciated.  I find it really relaxing, all I have to do is keep still for however long the pose it, it gives me time to meditate with absolutely nothing to distract me.  The time just flies by.

I usually hate photos of me, my mental picture of me doesn’t match up with the short, fat, clumsy looking blob that always turns up in photos and seeing the reality is depressing.  I’m absolutely dreading the photos at Vicci’s wedding, I feel like I’ll ruin any of the pictures I’m in by being so fat and ugly.  I’ve been dieting ever since I knew it was happening and I know it will be a wonderful day but I’ll still feel like a hideous monster when the photos start to appear.

Somehow though, drawings are a different matter.  I love seeing the wonderful range of pictures that people produce.  There’s so many different ways of making art.  The artists always manage to capture something I like, even when they’re showing all the lumps and bumps.

I inevitably come away feeling really good about myself and just that little bit more confident about how I look.  I know I need to lose weight but even as fat as I am, I still have a body that can inspire art. (I’ve just been diagnosed as Type 2 Diabetic so I definitely do need to lose weight and improve my eating habits as it will have a positive impact on how I feel) .

Last night was especially good for me.  A couple of the artists told me I was their favourite model and one of them was kind enough to let me have one of the pictures she had drawn of me curled up in a comfy chair with a book.  I am going to get it framed and it will hang in my bedroom as a reminder that however bad I may feel about my body, it is still worth something.  I am art.

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