A few weeks ago, I was eating the most delicious spaghetti ever at a swanky little restaurant near Times Square when I saw the most beautiful woman I’ve probably EVER seen. She was across this grand room in a corner booth, glitzy dangly earrings, the most dynamite smile, and like Sam Hunt would sing–“body like a backroad”–curves for days.
I. could. not. stop. staring. Courtney (our hair/makeup artist) knows that when I get “that look”—no matter what, I’m going in. She laughs, shakes her head, and says “you are going to fight through all these tables just to talk to her? Come on, Vic—is it really worth all that?” Yes, yes it was. As any artist knows, when you find something that inspires you, you go after it. So after we’d paid our check and stood up to leave, I made my way through endless tables, with my massive coat and bulky purse until I was standing in front of her.
I introduced myself and told her what I did—I told her I was in town for five more days, and that I would do ANYTHING to photograph her. I told her how beautiful and captivating she was—that her images would be GOLD. Her husband beamed with pride and said “Oh Amy, what a fabulous opportunity! DO IT, you are made for this! I’ll watch the girls—don’t pass this by!” She looked up and me and said “You are so sweet, but I can’t. I just have too much cellulite!” I wish someone could have captured the look on my face—I’m pretty sure my mouth hung open as I stood there, frozen, dumbfounded, and so heartbroken. I left my number with her, but as we weaved out of the restaurant, I knew I’d never see her again.
All the way back to the hotel, I stared out the window at the rainy streets, willing myself not to cry but also allowing myself to feel so broken for the beautiful woman that couldn’t let go—for the most stunning human I’ve ever seen who couldn’t allow herself to exist in a photograph because of cellulite. And the reason I was most upset? I used to be her. I used to make myself small, self-sabotage, miss out on golden opportunities, hide, live in shame…over something like cellulite.
To every woman out there who is waiting for the “perfect time”—there isn’t one. So let’s just meet in the season you are in—messy, imperfect, whatever. You will never be able to beat the fear–so you may as well join it..decide to do it scared.
You’ll never be more ready than you are right now.