I know you think I’m all calm, cool, and collected, but that’s not always the case. When I get excited about something, I really get excited.
I think about it obsessively, have pro-con arguments about it with myself (sometimes before I realize I’m in public), I envision myself with this thing. I find ways to shoe-horn it into my conversations, convincing myself it was a natural segue. I mime out using it or doing it however I imagine it would go.
That’s how I felt during my first encounter with Boudoir. I know. You’re shocked. You see me, and I’m basically a woman born with a camera and an innate knowledge of sexy posing. But no. I was not always the confident Nashville Boudoir Photographer that you know today.
Before I became a photographer, I was in your shoes. Curious, excited, and (above all else) nervous.
I’d been wanting to do a Boudoir shoot since I was a wee newlywed. I was at someone else’s engagement party, and one of the girls pulled out her phone to show us the stunning images she’d just gotten back from her boudoir photographer.
I fell in love with the idea of getting them done for myself. But I was not sure if that was something I was allowed to do (because, you know, I grew up in a pretty conservative church. And there are a lot of things I’ve learned conservative churches don’t like).
So, instead of doing anything about it, I let the idea of a boudoir session fester in my imagination. Until one day, while I stumbled on an offer I just could not pass up.
Oh, man. As soon as I read that, my heart started racing, my fingers started tingling. I was so excited.
I booked twice!
Two shoots, back to back. And then, bouncing up and down on the tips of my toes, phone pressed to the side of my head, I listened to the laborious ring tone on my sister’s phone as no one answered. No one to share this glee with.
I ran to tell my husband. I stopped. I knew about Boudoir, or at least, a little bit more than that first time. It’s expensive, it’s sexy, it’s exciting! I wanted the shoot. And I didn’t want to go it alone. I had to think this one out. I’d booked the shoots about three months out, which was, actually, perfect. My sister’s Anniversary was right before, and my husband’s birthday was right after. Plus it’s about the time it takes for a full round of P90X.
So, I’d figured it out. I’d do this. I’d make my sister do this. We’d give them as gifts.
I called her again, my excited bouncing turning into impatient pacing. She was going to do this, by golly, and no amount of avoiding my (many) phone calls (every two minutes) was going to change that.
After leaving a cryptic message, I was bouncing around the house with excitement. I didn’t know anything about the session. I didn’t know the company or the photographer or what it would be like. But I knew this was right, this was something bigger than a whim.
When she finally called me back, convinced I was dying because of the number of calls I’d made with only one cryptic voicemail, I told her my plan. She was going to come for a visit, sometime in March, so that we could do our photo shoots (which I’ve already bought, by the way, so you don’t really have a choice, you have to come down).
I don’t know that she was as immediately excited as I was, but let’s be honest, either you know you need a boudoir shoot or you don’t.
For me, it was never a question. I knew, as soon as I learned about them, that I would one day get a Boudoir Shoot. I knew it was for me. I knew it would change my life.
That night, I went to bed, fantasizing about that appointment, three months down the road. My alarm was set for a morning workout, but I couldn’t fall asleep. I was just too excited!