It was all arranged. I was to spend my 65th birthday naked in front of a large group of people. No, I wasn’t going to streak through the downtown streets, I was going to be a nude model for a second-year drawing class at the college. I would summon every ounce of courage to be the exact way I entered the world six and a-half decades ago – in my Birthday Suit.
A strange contrast of feeling both vulnerable and empowered lingered long after the encouraging call from the art teacher. The two seemed a perfect metaphor for aging, actually, and my plan was so perfect. I would discard both my clothes and the stereotype of how we think seniors should behave! The students revere the model’s platform, the teacher assured me. They honour the human body through their art and have utmost respect for everyone who stands (or reclines) before them. They’ve drawn heavily pregnant women, trans people, women who have had a mastectomy. The body carries the celebrations and challenges of a life, and they are respectful in capturing that.
Okay, sounds grand, I thought, as I ate a few less cookies during the holiday season since my ‘modelling’ session was booked just before Christmas break. It fit best into the schedule and I would conquer this last challenge to myself before I got cold feet (well, likely an entire cold body). I had a pedicure and watched myself naked in the mirror trying to capture an expression of nonchalance. Not sure I’d be able to pull that off, but I was determined and I was ready to undrape for those 40 students.
I only mentioned this to a couple of people, most of whom were incredibly positive about the idea. There were full belly laughs with my old friend in Calgary over lunch, who was the first to hear the plan and who was as giddy as me about the idea. “I’ve fallen and I can’t get up, so can you draw me naked on the couch like your French girls?!”
Righto, what was I thinking, a little old lady who might be more suited for a life-call button than an artist rendering. But two friends from the office of my career days squealed when I told them. They thought it was a delightful way to plant the flag in the ground of officially turning a senior. Take charge and do something totally unexpected. But then my neighbour, who spent her career at an art college, shook her head slightly and said I would never be the same.
So that’s what was rolling around my head as the big day approached. Until I got an email the night before, saying the place the students were at in their drawing studies required the model to hold an object in a long standing pose. She thought that was a more grueling experience than I had in mind, and we agreed she would reach out after the holidays.
The holidays provided lots of time to re-think things. I was trying to keep an open mind, but I realized I also had to be open to the fact that I really didn’t want to do this. I could do it, had been determined to see it through. But maybe the lesson was to listen to myself instead of hammering every idea to fruition. I don’t want to ever dim my own flame in order to stay in my comfort zone – that was the point of beginning these monthly challenges leading to my 65th birthday in the first place.
By the time the new semester’s schedule arrived in my email in mid-January, I thought of all the other models who would be receiving it. Many of them would be students themselves, I knew, and those three-hour timeslots would pay enough for a week’s worth of groceries. Should I bump one of them from a coveted spot just to prove something to myself?
Nope, I signed up instead for a Yoga Nidra class at my yoga studio. I wrapped myself in even more clothes and bundled down into the deepest form of yoga relaxation. Throughout these last 12 months of challenging myself, perhaps my biggest challenge was deciding to let the course of life take me where it feels most comfortable. That said, be forewarned that on my birthday I may be flashing people.