FRESH FROM PICKING UP the photos from yet another of those makeovers/en-femme photo shoots to which, I’m afraid, I’m becoming addicted, i slumped into the sofa-type seat in the coffee shop.
With a cup of steaming hot chocolate by my side, I proceeded to spend the best part of forty-five minutes poring over my treasured pictures again.
Hmm, some of these are really quite good I thought …even if I say so myself. There’s been a definite improvement in my ‘look’ over the months I’ve been doing such sessions. I’ve done three photo shoots in the last six months or so, mind you, so that should be a given. I smiled to no-one in particular.
Your body is nice and relaxed, your smile natural and, best of all, you truly look feminine in your posture, stances and body language. Aaah, if only, if only…
I looked around the coffee shop again, just making sure no-one was watching me… and started from the beginning of the album again. Mmm, maybe I’ll get this one enlarged to 6R size… now, that one would be good for one of the magazines I write for. Wow, this one… mmm…
A little over a week later after I’d just finished participating in a panel discussion at one of the conferences I seemed to be more and more frequently attending (in male mode, sadly), a pleasant young lady stepped in front of me holding her business card to the fore.
“Hello, Mr. Wilson, I’m from Trends Magazines and wonder if you’d like to do an interview for us. Tell us about your business, your strategy, expansion plans and so on.”
Given that I’d been tasked with tripling the size of the business line I’d started for my company less than a year ago, I was pleased to accept her invitation to gain some exposure.
“Oh, we’ll need a photograph of you,” she continued. “Can you come back here in about thirty minutes and I’ll fix you up with the photographer.”
“Sure, happy to oblige.”
Then she delivered her coup-de-grace: “Oh, we might use your picture on the cover of the magazine, so we’ll take a dozen or so; and you can pick the ones you prefer.”
Now, not that I’m a narcissist; in fact, certainly not when I’m dressed as a man (I’m the shy, retiring type), but the attraction of a photo shoot still had its allure and I was back at the appointed place earlier than the suggested time—and all ready for action.
The photographer arranged a couple of backdrops and he and his assistant kindly suggested a few poses; side on, arms folded; smile, no smile; sitting on a stool, on a sofa and so on—and they ended up taking around twenty photos.
Strange as it may seem, I’ve never done a photo shoot as a man before and I was ultra-keen to see the end result. So, we squatted down in front of the photographer’s laptop as we waited to for the pictures to load.
“Oh, they’re really good,” cried the lady from the magazine who’d first met me, apparently genuine in her praise.
“Yes, you look great,” added the photographer, seemingly pleased with his work, patting me on the shoulder.
Me? I just smiled to myself, my thoughts concealed behind the facial ‘mask’ I’d learned to adopt over the years. Yet my thoughts running wild.
Hmm, yes, the photos are better than I’d expected. In fact, some are, indeed, quite good. Yet, one thing I can see which they can’t…. one trait which is quite apparent to me in these photos… the femininity of my poses, my posture, the way I’m looking, coyly at the camera, the way I’m sitting on the stool…, the way I hold my arms, rest my legs. Subconsciously I’d been at one of my photos shoots en-femme…
Oh… deary me, I hope no-one else notices when the picture are published…. they’ll be wondering what on earth I’m doing!
Ooops!
