Naked woman

My Stint As a Nude Model Taught Me That My Body Really Is My Choice


If they’re brave enough to ask, and if I’ve been brave enough to disclose it, the first question people ask when I tell them I had a stint as a nude model back in college is some version of “really?” followed by a “why?” or “what was it like?”

I’m always tempted to say “why not?” because our society as a whole has some pretty warped opinions on nudity, sexuality and women leveraging what they got to get ahead in life. But I know that I wasn’t doing it to make a feminist statement or diverge down a new career path from my degree.

But I’m navigating the outside world again, and seeing all the hotties come out of the woodwork, it’s got me thinking.

The reality is I did it because it paid well enough to support all the weed I, an international student without a work visa, needed to get through sophomore year. I was also so miserable at the time that I wanted a thrill, and few things sounded more thrilling to my then-19-year-old self than a man tying me up with ropes and taking pictures of it.

The money is long gone and I haven’t gone to a party during which I could wink and share it in over a year. But what has endured, six years later, is that my body, my vessel, is glorious, regardless if it’s entwined in a sailor’s knot or lying supine on the couch.

A note: if you’re a teen growing up in San Francisco, odds are you’re working. I had worked since I was 14 in some capacity, whether it was shelving books at the library or scoring soccer games or assisting with dance classes at my local studio. Working helped me feel grounded, got me out of the house, distracted from my anxiety, and I made money so I could go out with friends and treat myself without relying on my parents, given I had three other siblings waiting with palms open.

So to arrive at college in a neighboring country in a rather expensive city, possibilities became very finite. My freshman year, I siphoned many a meal dollar from my amazing friends to make my meager meal plan through the term, so I knew I had to future something out to last another year.

I’d felt my body being watched since I was 12 years old, my classmates, neighbors, plenty of men old enough to be my father. I started feeling alright in it by 16 and pretty good by 18. I hadn’t been a virgin in years by the time I was 19, but I’d yet to experience the true intimacy and mutual love of a healthy relationship.

While I’d had a tryst or two back in the dorms, no one could call my encounters impressive or scandalous. Still, I knew that my curvy body was, for lack of a better term, coming into fashion. The waif era was ebbing, and I was seeing more people who looked like me as beacons of talent, desire, and respect.

Mind you this was 2014, so I resorted to what unimaginative adults do when they need to make a quick buck: Craigslist.

Continued… Read full original article…

Source: Bold Italic

Original publication 16 September, 2021

Posted on NatCorn 26th October 2021

Reference to an article does not infer endorsement of any views expressed.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

I accept the Privacy Policy