Yesterday I read this smoking hot guest post about the effect of a leather skirt over at Girl On The Net’s place (if you haven’t read it yet go and check it out and then come back!). It reminded me of some photos that Exhibit A took of us way back in early 2015.
This morning I went looking for them. I couldn’t find them. They weren’t in the folder with all the other photos we took in that hotel room. Then a little creeping dread came over over me. I remembered deleting those shots. I didn’t like them. I didn’t like the way my tits looked, the weird expressions on my face or the roundness around my middle. I kept them for a short while but every time I looked at them they made me feel bad so eventually I deleted them. After much rummaging in my recycling bin I found them and recovered them.
So what do I see today?
I see a snapshot of a really hot moment and remember a happy 24 hours. I think my tits look pretty good actually. I like the way he’s gripping my leather skirt. I smiled when I saw the green wristband that was such a part of him for so many years. I chuckled at the memory of his dinner turning up with teeth in it. I remember it was the first time he talked to me about Livvy and I feel a little bubble of happiness at everything that has happened on that front since. I think about walking in the New Forest and playing pool. I recall being annoyed that they’d run out of croissants by the time we went down for breakfast and picking all the chocolate out of a pain au chocolate. I grimace that we were charged £42 for two gin and tonics!
And I feel sad that it’s taken almost three years to appreciate the photo.
How many of us have deleted a photo in haste not realising that with it we have closed the door on a whole host of happy memories? How often do we take a photo then fail to appreciate the nuances of the shot because we are focusing in on our perceived flaws? Why are we not kinder to ourselves?
I’m glad I read that leather skirt post. I’m glad I fished this photo out of the recycling. I’m glad I’m sending it out into the wild. And I’m resolving to not delete in haste again and to zone in on the memories of moments, not the bits of me I don’t like.
Do Not Delete
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This, even without the words, is a really great photo!
I just really identify with the sentiment. I’ve deleted photos for many reasons that I’ve later regretted. Many times once they’re gone, they’re gone which is a shame.
I have few photos of Ryan, but even more annoying, I burned a whole pile of drawings of him, so I can relate on some level. This is a seriously hot image!
Indie
I have lost quite some photos some 12-15 years ago, some of which I have deleted myself, but I now keep every photo I have made. I save them in folders and just leave them there. I might never look at them again or I might go back and use them, who knows. I’m glad you found this image because it’s damn sexy!
Rebel xox
Nice pic. We’ve never done anything in leather. Peter’s fascination is for loose fitting short flared skirts and also my running shorts. It is always difficult getting to the shower without sex when I get back from my morning run. LOL. Each to their own.
I learned this lesson early on in my blogging. Now I keep at least one thing from every set I make, even if I hate it I have found that with time those feelings change
Mollyx
I never delete images, they all get thrown in a folder somewhere (I’m trying to be more organised with that!) and ignored but never deleted. There have been so many times I’ve stumbled across images and see something completely different in them.
Oh my god, I’m so glad you were able to rescue these photos! This is SO. FUCKING. HOT! I know what you are saying about deleting, and I sometimes do delete things that I hate. But this post is going to make me rethink that. There is more to say about the wisdom of not reacting too quickly when seeing ourselves, saving all photos, photos triggering wonderful memories, etc, etc. but honestly, I can’t really say anything coherent regarding the content of your post because once I got to that photo, my brain basically turned to jelly. It’s your mirrored hands, and your shiny bracelet and the way he’s gripping your waistband and your breasts spilling out of your bra and that light perfectly placed behind you…sigh. So good.
I’ve lost count of all the images I’ve deleted, of all the images I detest, and continue to mourn an image on a screen that could have been, but it’s hard to break the habit.
This photo is amazing, I’m so glad you posted it.