Posted by: littlegirlyone | April 7, 2010

bare naked

Look I’m standing naked before you. Don’t you want more than my sex? I can scream as loud as your last one, but I can’t claim innocence.

-Tori Amos, Leather

Last Monday, Daddy and I were talking about what he wanted me to write about our new project on my blog. I was really happy to be having that conversation. It made the project real. He started telling me what he expected to see on Sundays: a summary of what I’m eating, how often I’m exercising, how my body is changing.

“And,” he said, satisfied, “You’ll take pictures of your body every week and post them. So everyone can see you changing.”

“What kind of pictures,” I wanted to know. “Naked?”

“Naked. With your hands behind your head. That’s a flattering pose, isn’t it? And, it leaves you with nowhere to hide.”

I could feel him grinning as I allowed the idea to absorb. Naked pictures of my body as it changed. Posted on my blog. I was so turned on it was hard to breathe, and at the same time, my stomach knotted with nerves.

“Yes, Daddy,” I sighed.”But, can I keep my face out?”

“Of course.”

“And, Daddy, can I wear panties?”


“I don’t know.” I paused. “I’m just thinking about taking these pictures. The idea of being all the way naked is a little overwhelming.”

“Well, maybe that can be something you earn, or that I take away…” He waited for a moment. “For today, you can wear them. Something neutral, simple and barely there.”

“I think I have some that will work. I’ll take the pictures, and you tell me if they’re OK?”

He agreed.

“And,” he added, “when you post the pictures, I want you to write an honest assessment of what you see. What you like, and what you don’t.”

“Scary, ” I protested.

“Scary,” he agreed, “but important, right?”

“Yes, Daddy.” My face burned. This project was just beginning and it already felt really hard.

A few hours later, I was in the bathroom with my laptop balanced on the sink. I was wearing the palest pink pair of panties in my drawer. Lacy, but simple. I hoped they were OK because I really didn’t want to be naked. (I should mention that I’m a bit of a photo whore. I take pictures of myself for Daddy all the time, and I really enjoy it. It appeals to my inner exhibitionist, and it always turns me on.)

I launched Photo Booth, and adjusted the built-in camera so my body, from my neck to the top half of my thighs, was in the frame. I couldn’t stand any further from the camera, so that had to do. I clicked the shutter, and Photo Booth counted down 3 seconds: just enough time for me to step all the way back against the edge of the bathtub, and raise my hands behind my head.


Breasts, belly, hips, thighs.

I repeated the process on a side angle, once with my hands behind my head as he’d told me, and once with my arm down. Finally, I turned around.


Back, shoulders, ass, thighs.

I sat to look at the photos, and evaluate myself. All of a sudden, I felt horrible. I couldn’t see a single thing I liked about the body in the pictures. There was something so hard about them. The straight-on angle, the overhead light, and the fact that my face (which I like more often than not) was cut out of the frame entirely. The photos looked dehumanized, anonymous.

I hated them.

I said as much in the email I sent to Daddy. I told him I hated every one of them. I told him that there wasn’t a single nice thing I could say. I told him this was one of the hardest things I’d ever done.

I do not like these photos, I wrote…But here they are anyway.

Then, before I could change my mind, I clicked send.

Before I tell you what happened, I’m going to give you some background on my body confidence, and where it comes from. My mom is fat. I don’t say that to be mean, I state it as a fact. Really, it’s more important that she grew up feeling fat (even though she wasn’t by today’s standards), and that she felt fat all of my life. My house could only handle one depressed fat girl, and my mom had that market cornered. She wanted me to be confident and happy and outgoing. And I was, both so I could be what she wanted, and to show her that being fat didn’t need to be depressing.

As in many areas of my life, I have a huge wall of false-confidence around my body image. It took some time. I remember hating my body in like, 3rd or 4th grade. I had boobs, and I didn’t want them. To me, they just looked gross. I had thighs that touched. I had a belly. I was never one of those skinny little girls, even when I wore small sizes. I was always a little plush: ass, thighs, those little back rolls. It didn’t seem to matter how little I ate or what size I wore, I was always voluptuous.

I learned to be fine with it. Well, really I just learned not to say anything negative. My mom would go crazy trying to build me up if I said disparaging things about my body. Diet was a four letter word in our house; we never had a scale. It was bad not to love myself. I also felt guilty. Because if I felt bad about the way I looked, it could imply that my mother (who was much fatter) should feel bad, too.

So, for a long time, I just loved myself, damnit; I loved every little imperfection . . . fiercely. Except I didn’t really love myself. I just told everyone that so they’d believe I was this confident girl I was supposed to be.

So, last Monday evening after I’d sent that email, Daddy came looking for me. After some small talk, he said, “so, let’s talk about your pictures.”

I mumbled my assent.

“I like them,” he began. “They’re honest. But are you OK putting them up for the world to see? Are you up for giving them an honest critique?”

“I think so,” I whispered. I could feel the tears welling up already, and I blinked.

“I know that’s hard, piglet. You’re a brave little girl.”

And those three little words broke the dam.

“Thank you,” I struggled, crying now. “You make me want to be brave. And I love you, I can’t resist you.”

He smiled. “Right where I want you, baby. Defenseless. Wrapped around my finger.”

“But,” I went on, “this feel exposed. Open in a scary way.” I took a shuddering breath. “What do you want me to say about the pictures?”

“I want you to tell me, and tell the world, what you see when you look at them. What you love, and what you hate.”

“Today right now? I’m not loving any of it.” I admitted, miserably. “And that just feels too sad to write.”

“You know that’s not always so,” he reminded me. “It’s a mood, a place. So, don’t write until you can say good things.”

I tried to regain my composure.

“You know, you don’t have to do this,” he continued. “It’s going to be really hard. And once you start, I’m going to make you keep going. The only choice you get is whether to start.”

“I want to start.” I was confident about that.

I was quiet for a few minutes.

“You don’t seem like yourself, you don’t seem OK” he prodded. “You want to talk about it?”

“I’m just scared, and a little bit sad. I’m not sure why, except that this project is making me deal with stuff I don’t usually deal with. It’s making me think about things I don’t like to think about. You’re asking me to be honest about my body. I don’t have a lot of practice with that. It’s love or hate, perfect or terrible. I don’t know where to find the middle ground. I have invested a lot into being OK with how I look. It’s scary to be pulling out criticism. I mean, being vulnerable to you? That’s one thing. I trust you. It’s being this vulnerable to everyone else that’s overwhelming. That’s like, 1000 times scarier.”

“So how about this?” he replied. “Should we just start you and me? Not invite the world in yet?”

I considered that. “I don’t really mind the writing part. It’s the pictures that are scaring me.”

“They’d scare me,” he agreed. “So let’s do this. First month of blogging everything but the pictures. The pictures can be only for me.”

“I like that much better.”

“Done,” he said.

And after I agreed to write about the pictures when I could find something positive to say about my body, we said goodnight.

In the morning when I looked the pictures over, I came up with some nice things to say about myself. And some things I’d like to change. Writing to him, I felt my heart softening. I felt that warmth in my chest. A children’s book I grew up with called it the “love light,” and the illustrations showed people with little pink light radiating out of their heart chakras–a total hippie book, but the image always stayed with me.

So I wrote about myself honestly, intimately. I saw pretty curves and lines, and I loved them. I told him about that. I saw places that I could change, and I felt OK about them, too. I didn’t flinch describing my flaws. And I didn’t feel perfect. And I didn’t feel horrible. I felt real and warm and human and whole. I felt loved, and I felt that I loved myself.


  1. I’ve never done anything like this, but I’ve played with body issues and so on. It’s very shaky ground. It can be such a touchy subject but sometimes it can push you to amazing places.

    I smiled because I’ve called my girl piglet from time to time. It’s loving and embarrassing and sweet all at once.

    Sad that we don’t get to see the picture. I’d really like to see! Hopefully at some point.

    • Jack,

      I was so excited to see your comment! I went running to my Daddy to show it to him (I’ve sent him some of your stories before, so he knew how much I like your writing). Anyway, he and I both loved the “piglet” comment. He said that calling me piglet is really the best, that it feels for him the way my calling him Daddy feels for me. It’s just a nickname that he loves (and that he’s only ever bestowed on me–aren’t I so lucky?). We both love it for the same reasons you suggested: it manages to be sweet, humiliating, condescending, and endearing all at once. Especially because I’m a curvy girl, I just blush when I think about him calling me piglet in front of anyone else… gawd.

      The pictures will go up at some point, Daddy is very sure of that.

  2. You are indeed a brave little girl! Not for sharing this project publically and not for eventually sharing photos, but for facing yourself honestly and openly in the first place. Many, many people cannot do that even privately with themselves with their bodies or any other aspect of their lives.

    You are an inspiration. I am very thin, but have my own body issues (because I’m thin) I always wanted curves, to be a voluptuous Marilyn Monroe type. Do we always covet what we don’t have?

    The key for me was getting honest with myself, like you are doing. Appreciating what God gave ME and loving and accepting my body the way IT is formed instead of wishing for someone else’s frame.

    I love that Daddy is making you find beautiful things about your body NOW as you are, before and while you reach your goals.

    • Sapphire,
      Thank you for the compliments. It means a lot to me that my readers see how deeply this goes. It’s not just a project about vanity and wanting to look like a model (I actually don’t want that, anyway). It’s really about fixing some of the ways that I judge myself, and hurt myself, and generally come down hard on myself.

      I think we do always covet what we don’t have. It just seems like it would be “easier” to start skinny and add curves. Obviously, I’ll never know what that’s like, so it makes it easy to project that, you know?

      I am working more and more on accepting what I have. Right now I’m struggling with my patience. I’m not the most patient person, and I want to see some changes. It’s hard not to get frustrated that I haven’t dropped 2 sizes and 30 pounds already 🙂

      My Daddy is pretty awesome: he’s kept me focused on the positive while helping me to be critical and honest at the same time. That’s a lot to balance, but for him, I’ll do my very very best.

  3. I love being able to read the story of a new project starting (especially when it involves the modification of a female – as you know). I’m really looking forward to witnessing your progress.

    I think this is incredibly exciting. To think you’re brave enough to let us see even this much – i’m very proud of you.

    • Deity,
      I knew that this project would have special appeal to you. I was very excited to share it with you and get your reaction. Thank you for being proud of me. You and Meg have been my best companions these past three years, and your kudos are extra-special for me because of that. Thank you, dear friend, for your support.

  4. Congrats on writing so honestly on how you feel about your body issues.

    But then you’re just a typical. Woman are never happy with their looks. It must be in the estrogen.

    Ss I’ve said before, you look curvy and sexy and most people wouldn’t guess your real weight.

    Granted, you can lose some weight but try to feel positive about yourself and you will project a positive image. And how thoughtful your Daddy is in realising your sensitivity on the issue. Good luck.


    • You know, they’ve actually come out with some new data about how many of this generation’s young men and teenage boys have body issues like these. I don’t think it’s an estrogen thing, I think it’s a social thing. For hundreds of years, we’ve objectified the female form. Every little girl worries at some point about the way she looks. I don’t know if the men in their 30’s and 40’s ever had that experience, but as we’ve begun to objectify the male form in similar ways, there seems to have been an uptick in male body insecurity.

  5. I’ll be honest, I’m a little disappointed I don’t get pictures, but I totally understand 🙂

    Your Daddy is right, you are a brave little girl! I don’t know how I’d feel about posting naked pictures of myself for the world to see. Even the few I have on FL can be nervewracking. But at the same time, I’m also a photowhore. For the right person, I’d take slutty pictures all day. There’s just something about the whole wide world – okay, only people with a password in this case, but still! – being able to see you naked that brings out every imperfection.


    • Kelsi,

      You’ll get your photos, I promise. Now, don’t you go tempting me to turn you into my photowhore, little girl.

  6. hey chickadee. great job with this post! you are just wowing me (and everyone else it seems!) with your self-awareness, bravery, and growth. like deity, i am SO proud of you. 🙂

    • I owe so much of my bravery, self-awareness and growth to you, miss meg. Really, you are my inspiration and my sounding board and my very favorite submissive BFF! It means a lot that you (and Deity) are proud 🙂

  7. Lg, I’m so happy that you’re taking this journey with someone you trust and love!

    I love your candor. It’s so refreshing and sincere 🙂

    I think most people have body issues whether they’re heavy or thin. Sometimes we’re our own worst critics, ya know? I think if I’m the first to point out what I consider to be my flaws, then I’ve beat everyone else to the punch…(I often wonder why I do that? beating myself up takes so much of my energy).

    Best of luck on this journey you’re taking! I’ll be sending positive thoughts your way…

    Your post inspired me…
    Lovin’ you and NOW lovin’ myself a little more!

    xo, Missy

    • Hey Missy,

      You make a great point: very few of us love what we have, no matter what that is. I’ve totally done the “point out my shortcomings before other people do it for me” thing. I’ve done it with my body, with my intelligence, with my writing. It’s a hard habit to break.

      I feel honored to have inspired a little self-love. I hope you also mean in the physical sense…heh heh 😉

  8. As someone who wrestles fairly regularly with my own weight issues, I know how scary it can be to face your body.

    I can’t wait to read about your progress and even if you never post the pictures, I think you are incredibly brave and I admire what you and your Daddy are working towards.

    • Thanks, Aurore. It’s wonderful to have support from other girls that have similar issues. I promise to keep the journal updated with my progress, and I don’t think I’m going to get out of posting the damn pictures at some point. It’s so great to feel like at least they’re going up for you all–such a supportive group!

  9. I think it’s great that you’re writing about what you love about your body. Curves are so sexy though, please don’t lose all of them!

    • Sky,

      I think Daddy said that we’re not going to “turn me into a boy.” Which is good, because I like being a girly girl a whole lot. I don’t think I could rid myself of my curves without surgery, not to worry 😉

  10. Such an open and honest post. Fantastic. I too was fat until into my 20s and though I managed to change that, the body issues never went away, they just changed locations pretty much. Thanks for such a powerful read!

    • Hi Kat,

      Thank you for reading and for sharing your story. I think we all struggle with this kind of body image stuff, how could we not? I’m glad you commented, and found this affecting and powerful. That’s really one of the nicest things a person can say about my writing. Thank you!

  11. You are an amazing person. This is my first comment so it may get a tad broad. I have been through a lot in my life and I am fairly comfortable in my skin and yet… You challenge me. I could go into all of the reasons but simply put, no BS you get to the core issue and deal with it.

    This body modification project, I thought was not up to the challenges I have read about you meeting. Societies unrealistic expectations were the problem, not the delicious curves of a real woman. You have uncovered the issue of “self”-image that is so critical.

    I look forward to your progress and your enlightening words. Thank you.

    • Hi Emma,

      Thank you for commenting, and welcome. I must say, I’m deeply flattered by your compliments. I am trying very hard to deal with some of my core self-confidence issues, so it’s wonderful to read that you’re getting that.

      I’m also thrilled that I managed to convey to you in this post what this transformation project is really about. It’s not about being anyone else’s ideal (well, maybe in fantasies, I hope to become Daddy’s ideal). It’s really about doing something healthy for myself, and learning to find what’s lovely about me. And find it authentically, not just because other people expect me to say something nice about myself.

  12. “a little plush: ass, thighs, those little back rolls. It didn’t seem to matter how little I ate or what size I wore, I was always voluptuous.”

    As I read that, I cold feel the arousal percolating through me. I understand you don’t like it, but . . . Damn, you are hot. I wanted to say something supportive and deep here, but, once again, your writing has the testosterone doing my thinking for me.

    • Thanks, David.

      You know, sometimes I liked it just fine. I certainly learned how to work what I got blessed with, you know?

      Don’t worry about saying something supportive and deep, hearing that my writing arouses you is a very fine compliment.

  13. The only remaining question is, where do we find these special pictures? Jake

    • They’ll be posted in the “transformation” pages. They’re under password protection 🙂

  14. Gee, Lg, this post hit home for me in lots of ways. Partly because I decided to post pictures of myself for Murre awhile ago (though I didn’t *have* to), and I remember how terrifying that was. But also because both of us have been dealing with body-image issues a lot. Maybe not the same stuff, but there is a shared reluctance to even go into that space, let alone eroticize it. And I think that’s what makes posts like this–and projects like this–so powerful to people.

    Thanks and good luck.

    • Hi Orlando,
      I totally agree: I thought of you often while I was writing about this. I’m happy to see you’re here, and enjoying it. It’s great to read about the myriad ways that people deal with their body image–it’s obvious the majority of us have issues there.

      For what it’s worth, I always thought your pictures of yourself were incredibly brave. If (actually, when) I end up posting pictures of me, they’ll be under password protection. The whole wide internet is just too overwhelming at this time. Plus, I have tattoos. So, you know, being safe and anonymous, etc.

      Love to you and Murre!

  15. wow. i’m so moved by this post l.g. it left a lump in my chest and tears in my eyes. the honesty with which you’re sharing is palpable. and so very beautiful.

    i’m also very happy to see just how loving your daddy is. it sounds like your in good hands. 🙂

    the vulnerability and openness with which you’ve been writing lately is truly heartwarming…and soooo sexy in that little girl way i love so much. keep up the fantastic work! xoxoxox

    • Thank you so much, baby girl. This is a really nice compliment, and one I’m going to treasure for a long time. It’s really awesome to get positive reinforcement for being vulnerable, and that’s what this is like.

      Also, I’m happy to hear a reader’s reaction to my Daddy. He really is amazing, and I’m thrilled to be sharing him with you all, finally!

  16. Body image is the hardest part of my polyamorous relationships. Being the Daddy is lots of hard work but worth it when my little girls shine.


  17. I see and hear so much of the old me in this post. When I made the decision to change my body (and as a result my life) it was exciting and heartbreaking. I’ve always been fat and was obese at my heaviest, and it’s so very confronting to have to deal with all the underlying factors as to why I was the way I was.

    I applaud you for not only doing this, but for doing it publicly. I was cringing while reading about you posting the pictures. Not for anything related to you, but because I took naked photos of myself when I was much larger, from all angles, and the idea that He would want me to post them online is terrifying. Even now, I couldn’t do it, because I am ashamed of how I was and I hate seeing myself like that.

    Thank you for being so honest in your writing lg. I wish you the best of luck and will be rooting for your success 🙂 After all, I know how difficult this is.

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