Say it with me now. Fuck it. I am FUCKING Fierce.
Feels good, right? To let that out. It's my new mantra.
Recently, a client of mine posted an article of a GORGOUS lady in black lingerie. This women was glowing. Radiant. Fierce. And guess what? She was not a model. She was not photoshopped. She was AMAZING. Inspired. She is fierce.
I am keeping this authentic and real. I have struggles. It's the drive that pushes me to be better, for myself. My children. Husband. Everyone. I, try to be kinder than most. I have been there. The use of the words "skinny" and "flat chested" shaped my childhood. These words are not kind. And they molded how I felt about myself, for years. It was usually followed by the old "you should eat a burger" comment or "that would look better if you had boobs." People commented all the time about my taste in "weird clothes." I always saw beauty in oddball things, that most people are too busy to see and walk right past. Ironically, I was blind and thought everyone saw it, too.
What's mind blowing to me, looking back now, is how scary and awful it is that all that Jedi mind fuckery over time....worked. When I was 19, I gave up. I lightened my hair, and I got breast implants. No one really knew that I had them, but let me tell you. They were obnoxious. I thought to myself, "this is what I needed to feel good about myself, to make me attractive." This is what those "pretty" girls in the sandbox do. I, desperately wanted to belong.
It worked. For a while.
Fast forward 17 years. Priorities change. Babies happened. And, like the comedy that my life often is....on my 36th birthday, my left implant ruptured. And like that, my path once again changed.
Other than it being kind of hilarious, I kept thinking.....OMFG NOW WHAT!?
Am I pretty? Will I be loved? Will I hate my body? THE SANDBOX! I AM GOING TO GET KICKED OUT OF THAT SANDBOX!
And the opinions..oh the opinions.."if you don't replace them, you'll regret it" "your poor husband." blah blah blah.....
I was forced to make a decision. Before I had the surgery to get them removed, my (amazing) doctor ruptured the other one. Making me "even." It also gave me a chance to see what I will look like. Cause let's be real, I have not seen "me" in a VERY long time.
And to my shock, I AM HAPPY. I feel empowered and free. I can, for the first time in YEARS feel my heart beating. And I don't owe any explanation about my choices, to anyone. Because, I am fucking fierce.
Don't get this twisted. No shame for anyone. I am ALL for doing YOU. Whatever that is. Unapologetic. If implants make you happy? HELLS YEAH! If a sleeve of tattoos makes you happy? BOOM! I support you. I just am trying to connect with you, kind human reading this. And understand that I see you, for you. All your gloriou fucking YOU!
I believe that everyone is beautiful in their own way, and I will see it and not walk on by.
What life lesson I needed to learn, was to be this accepting, of my damn self. This translates into my everyday life. Into my work. Into my brand.
Do you. Stay Fierce. Stop putting yourself into a damn box. Filled with quick sand. No one likes it there.
Onward. My darling client said she would love to have a photograph taken like the one she posted, where she would feel strong and beautiful. Not judged. And? At that very moment.....my inner child, who was told to "eat a burger" or get "boobs" took over. I want to make her (and many more) feel fucking fierce.
This was an instant collaboration of broken souls. Learning to just, be. I am honored.
So here it is. Our new project. Created out of fire, fight and flowers.
We named it The "Fuck it, I'm Fierce." Project.
And we need you!
Are you a person, ANY age or gender (must be at least 18) who wants to be a part of this? Our mission is to use something that someone has said to you. That you didn't like. And turn that around.
You do not need to wear lingerie. But the point is to push you past your comfort zone, and to embrace what you deem to be unworthy of photographing. Change it up, into something powerful and empowering.
Let's do this.