Friends have be-leaf in my naked ambitions

At work, checking out the size of my latest wardrobe.

Eve at 59. Unlike the original Eve, however, it was a rhubarb leaf I had to work with and the only temptation was to unclothe myself and see if that rhubarb leaf would cover what it needed to.

Why? Good question. Great question, in fact. I have only one valid explanation and it's this: because I wanted to prove to myself I can accept myself physically — as I am with the body I have now — as well as accept myself mentally. That I can look at myself critically and work to improve myself while being happy with myself. That — and to see if the leaf would fit.

I did not wake up Tuesday morning with the intent of having rhubarb leaf boudoir shots taken. Hell, I didn’t even know I was getting rhubarb brought to me. But that’s how most great stories start: innocently and, then, with the right bunch of people, fun.

I was at work, gloriously pruning cranesbill, when a colleague came in for her shift. She brought me in a large bunch of rhubarb she’d cut fresh from her garden that morning, wrapped in the largest rhubarb leaf I’ve ever seen. I was beyond thrilled to get this gift. I love to bake and I love to bring in baking to my team. As we chatted, another coworker came over and remarked about the size of the leaf. Both women wondered if the leaf would cover their top “goods” and they each tried it on. Plenty of room to spare. So far, so good. Then they turned expectantly towards me, leaf held out. 

It’s fair to say I’m the most blessed in the bosom department but I gamely held that leaf up and there was more than ample coverage. With a head toss and a saucy grin, a couple photos were taken and that was the end of that.

Well, perhaps not.

As the shift went on, I began to wonder if that leaf would cover ALL the important parts. I hadn’t thrown the leaf away yet so, on a whim, I tucked it into my locker and let the idea of clothing myself like Eve percolate.

By the end of the shift, I’d made my decision. Some how, some way, I was going to get photos of me wearing only a leaf and a saucy grin.

I filled in my colleagues as to my plan, listened while they laughed — and I laughed at the lack of surprise on their faces.

Once my decision was made, I needed to figure out the logistics. I mean, it sounds simple: remove my clothes, hold a leaf, say cheese. But the timer on my phone is 10 seconds and checking for photo accuracy and sprinting to get in place seemed daunting. So I decided to use a lifeline and call a friend — one of my closest who lives across the street. She agreed my plan to do this was absolutely rational (I’m not sure what this says about either of us) and could pop over to my house later to accommodate. So I threw my leaf in a sink of cold water to keep it from wilting, sat down and watched a hockey game ... and waited.

Around 8 p.m., I got a text — “on my way” — and, in under a minute, she was in my front door. We discussed where (in front of some plants in my kitchen). I shucked my clothes (except for my panties), picked up that rhubarb leaf and she started taking pictures. I posed. I laughed at the absurdity of it all. No matter what I did, she kept clicking. She took about 15 photos before I put my clothes back on and we finished watching the game. And that was it. I should point out every woman needs to have a close friend who will do things like this (take photos of you wearing only a rhubarb leaf) and not think it’s weird. Because while it is, it also isn’t. Weird.

That was the easy part, the fun part. The hard part was looking at those photos. Looking at my body. My 59-year-old body. My body that has lost the elasticity of my youth. Gained more curves. Is softer and saggier than in years before. My body that I betray almost daily by wishing it was different; wishing it was something else. My body that has given so much to me, protected me, given me reasons to go on when my mind has tired while I’ve given less — so much less — in return. My body that has begged for me to accept it, love it, as is. 

Initially, I looked at the photos and saw only flaws and faults. I saw nothing redeeming. I forced myself to look again … then again … then again. As I did, I started seeing more and more to like. Even things to love. I started seeing some of the features I thought were hideous actually aren’t. I started seeing that this body — my body — holds beauty. And that this body — my body — should be shown the respect that it deserves at all times.

I had started accepting my body a few years back, beginning with eating better and exercising more. I do, however, have a long way to go. Complete acceptance may never come but that doesn’t mean I can’t try and do better. I can still accept myself physically while working towards improving my health and physicality. 

But standing there — clad like Eve in a leaf — has made me aware that, although I may not be society’s idea of beautiful, I can be my own idea of beautiful if I let myself believe it.