I was dating a Photographer for a few weeks called James who was desperate to photograph me. I know what you’re thinking, because I was thinking exactly the same thing. I’m always suspicious of men who say they’re Photographers. I had seen his work already, but that wasn’t the point, I’m not very good in front of a camera anyway, so I was avoiding it like the plague.
Then one day he invited me over for a picnic in his garden, which I thought was original and romantic. When I got there he had set up his tripod. “Trust me!” He said. Okay, we were in the garden so I knew he didn’t want me to take any clothes off, part of me was curious to see what kind of pictures he would take. Maybe there’s a part of every girl who is curious to see how a professional Photographer would interpret her beauty.
So I agreed, and it turned out to be a fun afternoon in the sun, messing about with wild flowers and a picnic hamper. I told him I wanted to see the snaps, but he said that I had to wait until he had finished with them and that he would edit them properly and create a little portfolio for me. I was flattered I guess, that he would go to so much trouble.
I waited a week or so and then over dinner he presented me with the portfolio. When I opened it up, all excited to know how he sees me… I was a little bit horrified, because all the pictures he had chosen were of me looking like a child! The way he had edited them all to look so innocent and child-like… it just wasn’t me! I was annoyed. Is this really how he sees me, I thought? That’s not who I am, that’s not how I see myself, or how anyone I know sees me. I had thought I was a sexy woman not a virginal child! Where were all the pictures of me lying in the grass showing a little bit too much cleavage? Where were the pictures of me seductively walking off behind the tree trunk, giving ‘come follow me’ eyes?
I didn’t like it all, and it put me off him completely. I never told him what I really thought of the pictures, but I stopped seeing him soon after.