Jennifer Savage

I stripped down to my underwear this week and had my picture taken by a man I didn’t even know. What can I say? It’s been an odd week.

Maybe I should do some explaining.

I got an email a few weeks ago asking some mamas to do a photo shoot – and underwear photo shoot. When I first read the message I was sure the woman who conceived of this idea had absolutely lost her mind. I thought, wow, that’s brave. I hope they have a good time. But as I moved through the week, I kept thinking about the photo shoot.

The concept, women of all body types, whose bellies had been stretched proud from babies, getting down to the basics with each other in a supportive environment, resonated with me. I have two young daughters and I’m always saying how I want them to be proud of their bodies. I saw in this an opportunity to, well, put up or shut up. Where else will they learn to be confident in their own skin if not from their mama? But the thought of having my picture taken in my under things terrified me.

I took a deep breath and emailed the woman in charge.

“So, is that a yes?” she wrote back.
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