When I got the call on a Thursday asking if I wanted to take part in a filming for Triumph's 'Women in Making' project as one of their 'real makers' the following Monday, I of course said yes. Since my last turn playing celebrity interviewer, I've been dying for a chance to get on camera and hear 'ACTION!' once again like an aspiring starlet.
However, this filming would be followed by a photo shoot, in my underwear, well Triumph's, which my crown jewels will be in. Did I panic? Honestly no, and my immediate answer was a resounding yes, after admitting it wasn't on my bucket list, ever. I think at 36, having beaten an eating disorder in my early twenties, then being a little too carb happy, and finally arriving at my best ever health - I love my body. Regardless of what the scales say or what people may think: this is me.
I also don't mind admitting that no one has seen me in my underwear other than the postman by mistake - sorry about that, for a while. So yes, this will be a grand reveal as highly anticipated as the next series of Girls in the UK, for me anyway. My second thought was thank GOD I have been hitting the gym for months while completely overhauling my diet to Gwyneth Platrow standards; it's almost as though the universe knew this was coming. I'm feeling bouncy and firm with a nice portion of curves to boot. I still have 5 kilos to lose, but no time for that now - I need to prep. My parts haven't had such a public appearance since I was last at the salon so I'm giving them a DIY red carpet glow: body buff, scrub, razor at the ready - it's all coming off, no stray pube is going to ruin my moment!
The underwear is ordered: I want black lacy high waisted and STRONG. I also suggest a bodysuit may be nice, but then - it's only my thighs I'm worried about. The Achilles heel - of me. Even though I've been pounding the pavement and treadmill week upon week, they refuse to behave in a reasonable manor and follow suit - they need an asbo really. But I'm pretty happy with the rest of me, particularly my chest, it never let's me down unlike my asbo thighs, it's always on its behaviour. Chest out, bottom in is my mindset.
Post filming after a whirlwind of meet and greets, interviews, takes, and hair and make-up: it's time. I have no nerves; I find the thought of something is always far worse than the act itself, so it's time to put my money where my mouth is and 'stand for courage' as I said in my interview earlier.
As I am ushered to the changing room to try on the sets of lingerie on offer, my friend slash assistant suggests a gorgeous black bra and knickers (HIGH-waisted) set, with a pretty all lace form-fitting skirt over the top. But I am feeling bold - like my thighs, and as I bounce around in front of the mirror with my bottom jiggling in my friend's face, I decide I don't need the skirt - no. The lingerie is so well fitted, holding me in all the right places and nipping perfectly at my waist, I feel like I could take on Dita Von-Teese. Wrapped up in my robe, it's back to hair and make-up for some body prep. The lovely footwear designer Sophia Webster is in the chair prepping for her filming, but she cannot escape the curve bomb behind her; our male hairdresser kindly asks if I want him to leave but no, I'm past it. Disrobed with one leg bent up on the sofa ready for action, I'm going nowhere. As my make-up artist does her magic she notices my home manicured toes - I give them a little wiggle and I try to temp Sophia into considering me as a foot model, but I think she's okay.
And it's time. The set is cleared apart from my friend, the cameraman and assistant along with the very nice head of marketing lady who I've already met a number of times - cool. There is a little set with some books, a typewriter and a soft leather chair for me a lounge (semi) seductively in. This is it - I apologize to the cameramen, ask if they've had lunch and hand my robe to my friend, Ta-da! I'M OUT.
Oh this feels good! The bra has given me the best possible rack and the knickers sit exactly on the top of my waist making my hourglass figure solid, strong, and utterly feminine. I pour myself into the chair and take the crew's lead on what to put where; legs delicately to the side, calves accentuated, and thighs out of trouble, I feel fine, and actually massively empowered by my body and attitude. Shouts of encouragement from the girls and the cameraman not turning green make me feel like a powerhouse of curves, in my mind I'm a mini Lara Stone - who knew?
My upper tummy chub-roll is nowhere to be seen - the crew assure me, I'm not so sure but I suck it in and maintain my pose. Then we're doing a leaning wall shot; slightly concerned about having my bottom fully exposed to the guys I hold my cheeks up and slowly head for the wall, I don't think they saw. The wall posing I seem very comfortable with, 'Great rack love!' my friend enthuses as I arch my back, throw back my shoulders and think of Rome. I am possibly 'a bit' too Playboy though so I tone it down to a semi arched middle England pose: not too much, just enough. I also want to smoulder down the camera, but I need to remember, this is not Playboy Sadie, keep it wholesome.
And just like that - it's over. I'm high as a curvy 69 kilo kite in wonderful lace realizing I just posed in my underwear - how did that happen? I back up my booty into my friend's arms holding out my robe, cuddle and tell the guys however I look, is fine, and it is. After starving myself to be slim and generally feeling dire about my body, to do this and feel confident, is the best feeling in the world - asbo thighs and all.
Love yourself - every single inch.
Image supplied by Sadie BrownSuggest a correction