A Nudie Pic From My Sordid Past

All the major celebrities have nude pictures lurking somewhere in their past.  They pretend to be embarrassed about them, but in fact it’s a clever marketing ploy to drum up some sensational news articles and garner more publicity.

I figure I could use some publicity, so today I’m going to unveil a nudie pic from my own misguided youth.  And no, I’m not talking about baby pictures.  I was twenty-two at the time, and old enough to know better.

I have to warn you, this is not a tastefully-done boudoir photo.  It’s a tawdry snapshot from a time when someone who shall remain nameless (and whom I’ve cropped from the photo) convinced me to expose myself in public.

I knew at the time that it was a bad idea.

I protested, but I was young, and peer pressure is a terrible thing.  And I believed in the power of friendship.  A true friend would never ask me to do anything humiliating or potentially damaging to my reputation, right?


Here’s the proof:

Sorry, Camille, I would’ve cropped you out to preserve your privacy if I could, but thanks for being there.  No, I mean physically there.  In front of me, blocking the view.

Sorry, Camille, I would’ve cropped you out to preserve your privacy if I could, but thanks for being there. No, I mean physically there. In front of me, blocking the view.

Believe it or not, I am actually wearing a dress in that photo.  (For the record, Camille was a fellow martyr, not the bride who strong-armed us into this disaster.)

The bridesmaids’ dresses were flesh-coloured taffeta.  Low-cut and strapless, they had an inadequate wrap-around skirt secured only at the waist.  I’m sure I mooned half of Winnipeg just trying to get in and out of the car while the wind whipped that skirt around.

But the top was worse.  Much worse.

When the dress arrived the day before the wedding, I refused to wear it.  The top was so loose that one false move would’ve given the girls far more freedom than was advisable (or legal, for that matter).

So the seamstress altered it.  She was obviously vindictive about the last-minute change.  When I got the dress back the morning of the wedding, it was so tight I couldn’t draw a full breath.  My assets were attractively portioned into four boobs:  Bisected by a tourniquet of fabric, two naked bulges overflowed the top of the bodice, while the sadly flattened remainders were viciously crushed against my ribcage.

It was the 80s, and back then, cleavage was usually concealed in church.  You should have seen the poor minister’s face when I shuffled up the aisle clothed in little more than the tattered remains of my dignity, my half-exposed boobs burgeoning over the bodice with each humiliated breath while I tried to keep that slit-to-the waist skirt closed.  He probably wondered if I was inside the dress trying to get out, or outside it struggling to get in.

Trust me, it was the latter.

Somehow I got through the day, but the damning photographic evidence is preserved for all time:   Me, apparently stark naked in public, smiling for the camera.

So do you think that’s enough to make me famous?  Or just mortified?

29 thoughts on “A Nudie Pic From My Sordid Past

  1. Pingback: Home Free | Diane Henders

  2. SexAY! But what the hell was that bride thinking with those dresses? Are you still friends with her, or did you make a voodoo doll of her shortly after the reception ended? I would have opted for the latter. If it’s any consolation, from the neck up you look great in that photo.

    The worst bridesmaid dress I ever had to wear wasn’t bad because it was revealing, but because it was lemon yellow, and it was a sack dress. Wearing lemon yellow makes me look like I died 3 days ago, and the sack dress style, well, even Twiggy would have looked like a chunker in that style. It was not my finest hour.


    • The voodoo doll was unnecessary – the marriage ended 11 months later when she took up with a drug-addicted stable groom instead of the smart, sweet engineer she married. Honest; I can’t make this shit up. I’m going to say that the dress was the first indication of a serious lack of judgement.

      Lemon yellow sack dress. Yikes. Like I said, you can’t make this shit up. But I got a snort of laughter out of your comment “makes me look like I died 3 days ago”. Great line!


  3. HAWT! 🙂

    I might still have one or two nude drawings of me floating around the Midwest. It was for an art class at a Christian college. Funny, when I was at that same college as a student, our art class models wore bikinis and briefs. So they got a bit more liberal since I left. The instructor praised me for my “long arms,” and the college even paid me (though I had to remind them a couple weeks after the fact).

    p.s. For anybody reading this, if you’re ever a nude model for an art class, don’t take a peek at the drawings. Trust me on this. 8/


    • Fortunately, the outfit has vanished in the mists of time – I dropped it off at a thrift store very soon after the wedding. I would hope it went to some deserving recipient, but I can’t imagine what anyone could possibly have done that would be bad enough to deserve that dress.


  4. LOL! You knew we we’re going to read this post, didn’t you! It’s a very impressive photo considering photoshop wasn’t invented then. And I particularly like the line, “trying to get out, or outside it struggling to get in.” I like it so much I might just possible steal it (which is a British understatement and a way of apologizing in advance 🙂



  5. I say own it–make it your new Gravatar. You sexy beast, you! (And might I add, your hair is gorgeous!)

    One of the benefits of getting older is not getting asked to be a bridesmaid anymore. But at least I never had to contend with a dress like yours. All mine were self-contained. 🙂


    • I’m not sure about the Gravatar thing – but thanks for the compliment! 🙂 I think most women have an ugly-bridesmaid’s-dress story, but this one was by far the worst I ever had to wear. At least the others were G-rated and in flattering colours. And apparently the bridesmaid thing never dies. I was in a wedding party just a few years ago, and this weekend I’m going to another friend’s wedding. But at least it beats the hell out of going to the funerals that seem to be cropping up more and more frequently at our age.


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