Shelly

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Rising Naked: A Reflection

This is the second time in recent years that this 57 year old curvy woman found herself getting naked in public. It’s nerve-wracking—and also exhilarating.

This shoot with Phil is another step in my evolving relationship with my body.

Each time I push myself out of my comfort zone, old insecurities come roaring back. And yet, it’s in those very moments—where I feel most challenged—that I also feel most alive.

In the past few years, I’ve stood on stage in a bikini giving a talk about body acceptance, bathed semi-nude on a naturist beach, hurled myself gleefully down a slip-and-slide at a nudist festival –

… and now, I’ve stood completely bare in front of Phil, as part of his series on age. 

Just me and my body. Nothing hidden. Fully seen.

My body is curvy in all the so-called “wrong” places. And with age, the sagging skin and wrinkles have joined the party.

I’ve lived in a world that I perceived as one that judges and even ridicules those of us who aren’t young, slim, and effortlessly beautiful.

I used to think people like that had charmed lives, easier lives, although I know now that isn’t necessarily true. But for so long, I compared myself to them—and came up lacking.

But getting old and menopausal gave me the gift to live life on my terms, to say, No More! Or at least, not as often. The truth is, my body hasn’t changed for the “better”—if anything, it’s got wobblier, saggier, older. But what has changed is how I experience it.

This photoshoot is another way I’ve chosen to honour and explore that change. It’s a celebration of my incredible, imperfect body—and the journey I’m still very much on.

Getting naked seems to unlock something for me.

Especially when it’s tied to creative or expressive acts—it forces me to confront the judgments I carry, to see myself with new eyes. To notice both the harshness and the growing compassion I can now extend toward myself.

On the day of the shoot, I felt alive. Relaxed. Fierce. Like a warrior goddess wielding a big stick we’d picked up in the woods.

Naked in nature, I felt free—like a child without a care in the world. But I’ll be honest: although I truly loved most of the photos, some of them were confronting.

They didn’t match how I felt in the moment, or how I wanted to be seen. And despite all my progress, if a magic wand could make me slim—I’d grab it in a heartbeat.

 

Later, I shared a couple of the images I loved with a friend. Maybe I was seeking reassurance. Their response—a laughing emoji—hit me hard. I deleted the photos from our chat immediately, wishing I’d never shared them.That wave of vulnerability crashed in, sweeping away the confidence I’d been feeling since the shoot.

When I shared feeling vulnerable, they just said that I shouldn’t care about what others think, that felt like my feelings had just been dismissed.

I was triggered—suddenly that old wound from childhood reopened, reminding me of how my dad made me feel. But through that, I found my way back.

I saw that the pain wasn’t about my friend. It was about me. About the little girl inside who just needed love and acceptance. And I gave her that.

Slowly, I came back to the powerful woman I am today—the one who did something bold, beautiful, and deeply confronting. And I saw, too, that my friend wasn’t laughing at me.

They were laughing with me—with the joy of it, the absurdity, the courage. Laughing at the pure, uninhibited child in me, shining through in those photos.

Like a phoenix rising from the ashes of judgment—my own and others’—I emerged feeling both fragile and powerful.

And maybe that’s what makes this whole experience so breathtakingly meaningful and liberating.

Shelly’s Offering

I chose my fan because carrying it marked the beginning of a new perspective on menopause. Rather than hiding in shame, I began to embrace my hot flushes with style and grace. In doing so, I started to see menopause not as a burden, but as a powerful spiritual evolution. That’s why I’ve carried it with me ever since.

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