Raising Wildflowers.


I did a photoshoot recently, I haven’t done one of just myself since Monkey was a baby so 7 years roughly, this shoot was different than my previous “solo” shoot because this time I didn’t want to be “Sexy” {{or at least the kind of sexy the world pressures us into believing.}}


It’s a strange shift in perception after the birth of a child, yes, the body is altered but the mind as well. Maybe it’s the hormones that get all disarrayed but perhaps it’s the fact that for 9 months your body wasn’t your own and it certainly didn’t resemble the body that you had grown so accustomed to seeing looking back at you in the mirror.


Previously I wrote an article Divergent Beauty and while on that never-ending train of thought, I came to a halt on the platform of why. Why was I constantly evading the dark raincloud of self-doubting my beauty?  What type of high pressure cold front was causing the air around me to clash resulting in the rainclouds of self-doubt to roll in.


Then it dawned on me, I had ALWAYS grown up seeing overly sexualized women on T.V., on the magazine covers in the grocery checkout line, on the windows of gas station advertisements. These lust-worthy women were everywhere, so naturally I deemed them beautiful and myself not so much because my measurements didn’t align with theirs. {{My mother tells me often of one time when we were going through K-Mart when I was around 5-7 years old, I saw a poster sized advertisement of a model modeling a dress that was on the racks, Momma said I looked at the model in awe and then quickly turned my smile into a frown and I said, “I’ll never be able to wear a dress like that.” She replied, “Why not?!?” My response at 5-7 years old…”Because I’m going to be a midget.”}} Go ahead and laugh, seriously that crap is funny, I even laughed! So you have my permission! But let’s be serious for a moment, if you dig deeper than that surface response, I didn’t measure up. Fast forward to 6th grade, all my friends were getting their 1st kisses and I hadn’t yet and my group of friends were no so kind to me about that fact, so one of my friends asked a guy I had a crush on if he would kiss me, his response, “when she grows boobs.”


{{Ya’ll I would still be waiting for that kiss, I joke often that after nursing 4 littles I now have dents where I should have tatas!}}


After that revelation of being brainwashed what beauty is, I declare I want something different for my daughters! For my son! In a world full of artificial beauty, I want to show them natural beauty, I wanted some pictures of a modestly adorned woman without being all dolled up, without showing cleavage and leg, without a “come get me” pouty look.


So I picked a place to do these photos in a place most people wouldn’t deem beautiful. A swamp. Yes, you read that right, a swamp. This place is passed by without a glance by many but truly is a spectacle to be admired, just like natural beauty, not molested by man- made dyes and powders. In a world full of green-house roses who are injected with colors and kept in a climate controlled area, who can be cut off from the vine quickly and once outside their comfort zone, wilt. I want my girls to be wildflowers. If you have ever picked a wildflower you know how hard it was to pull it up, its roots have dug deep because of the dangers it faces daily, wind and animals which could cause an uprooting. If you’ve ever picked a wildflower you notice how much longer it thrives and its because it has become adjusted to ever changing surroundings. Therefore in a world of roses, I’m going to try to raise up wildflowers, and there’s no one else I can put the responsibility of raising such, than on myself. Happy Gardening!