What do you think about your naked body and how does it feel? For women, this answer could be a result of years of negative feelings, shame, or even self-loathing.
At least six out of ten women report that they ‘hate’ the sight of themselves with no clothes on, according to research, while 40 per cent say they can’t even look at their body in the mirror. It is sad and disheartening that this may be the case for any woman regardless of her success.
Recently, Dame Emma Thompson was seen naked in Good Luck To You Leo Grande. The Oscar winner, who is 63, stated that the scene in which she had to stand nude in front of a full-length mirror was ‘the hardest thing I’ve had to do’.
With startling honesty, she admitted: ‘I have never liked my body. Ever. It’s something I will never forget. I have these pathways etched in my brain. Women have been brainwashed all our lives to hate our bodies and that’s the fact of it.’
Emma Thompson, now 63 years old, recently appeared naked in a scene from her latest film. Four midlife women were inspired by this actor from the UK and have taken on their own challenges
Emma’s words are shocking and yet, when I heard them, I felt a sense of recognition. Rarely has a celebrity seemed so completely relatable. I don’t think I have a single female friend who would say she loves everything about her body, yet most of us also find this constant self-criticism exhausting.
In recent weeks, like so many British women, I’ve been bikini shopping, an activity I completely despise. Looking at my belly in the changing room mirrors, I know it’s stretched and saggy because it’s carried my three beautiful children. I know this physical change is something that, through my work as a campaigner for positive births, I’ve actively encouraged women to reframe and celebrate.
However, Is it possible to do this myself? No. And after half an hour of looking in the cubicle’s infinity mirrors, I was left in tears.
My rational side knows that this is ridiculous. I don’t have less value because of how I look and I’m happier and more confident now, in my 40s, than I was in my taut 20s. But an irrational part of my mind believes I’d be a better person if I didn’t need swimwear with ‘tummy control’.
If my decades of work as a campaigner for women haven’t shifted this toxic mindset, then what will? Surprisingly, there is a surprising school that says you need to confront your fears. Just like Emma in the scene where she stands in front of a mirror, staring at her body while she is undressed by her lover, women are encouraged to get naked and really look without fear, preconception or self-judgment — at themselves in a full-length mirror.
Danielle Reeder is a photographer who believes it can have an impact on your psychological health. It can be helpful to see our bodies differently and help us get rid of the self-hate we’ve gotten. This is something she believes in so strongly that she has dedicated her life to making nude portraits for normal women to increase their self-esteem.
Face the naked truth. Left to right: Debs Wallbank and Gail Crampton. Alison Rooney. Women embraced their naked bodies
Although she started out shooting clothed photos, her female subjects kept apologizing for their perceived flaws. ‘“I’m sorry about my stomach.” “Please excuse my legs.” Women apologising simply for being a woman,’ she says.
It led her to a new project, focusing entirely on the female form in, as she puts it, ‘all its raw and honest beauty’. In wild places like Exmoor, Dartmoor, and waterfalls she now makes naked portraits.
This project is serious in its goal: To liberate our bodies from the ravaging effects of advertising and social media. A lifetime of seeing such images is exactly how the ‘brain pathways’ that Emma Thompson talks about become so deeply carved that we can barely see beyond our culture’s narrow beauty standard.
‘Real bodies are being hidden behind endless filter options,’ Danielle tells me. ‘We’re losing sight of “normal” and persecuting ourselves to lose weight, to have bigger breasts, to have a tiny waist but a voluptuous bottom. But what if we instead learnt to love our own bodies just that little bit more?’
Emma Thompson said in an interview that she regretted having her naked body filmed and that it made her feel so ashamed of her body.
She hopes that her images — which are never photoshopped — will help others. ‘The women I photograph often say that perhaps someone else will feel more comfortable in their own skin after seeing real bodies celebrated,’ she explains.
It gives me hope that, even if we can’t rewire our brains to actively love our bodies, we might at least stop the harmful habit of hating them.
Emma Thompson said that being naked on camera made her feel sorry for having hated her body so much. She wished, she said, that she could tell her 14-year-old self: ‘Don’t waste your life’s purpose worrying about your body . . . it’s where you live — there’s no point in judging it.’
We may not all choose to go naked in public; but if stripping off in my own bedroom — and taking a long look at my body, trying to appreciate its differences rather than hate its flaws — can change my body image for the better, I’d give it a go.
To see how finally facing the mirror can impact a woman’s self-esteem, Femail challenged four brave women who, like Emma, say they cannot look at themselves in a full-length mirror, to take the ultimate confidence-boosting test — and be photographed naked. These women share their experiences with the mirror and what they learned about their bodies.
FOUNDING A LUMP SPARKED MY WORY
Alison Rooney is 44-years old and lives in Blackburn with Andrew Rooney, 45. Andrew is a chartered engineer. The couple has two children: Lucia (13 years old) and Oren (6 years). They live in Blackburn. Alison said:
Alison Rooney (pictured above) claims that she has never been confident in herself and found it difficult to accept her body after she had her children.
Prior to this photoshoot I was careful not to think about it. I got sick when I thought about it. My first reaction was ‘you must be joking’, but I eventually decided to do it, as I want to see myself in a different way.
My body has become short and rectangular, with many scars. In April 2018, I was diagnosed as having breast cancer and underwent a mastectomy. I’ve got scars under my breast and a hip-to-hip scar across my tummy from the removal of skin tissue to build a reconstruction.
In June of last year, I discovered a tumor under my right arm.
Eczema results from chemotherapy. My skin is reddened and blotchy. I feel ashamed of my body and want to keep it from others. I’ve taken the baby step of having a tattoo of a flower on my breast reconstruction area, but I’m still hiding it from almost everyone.
Although I wasn’t confident in my body when I was younger, I started a personal trainer course at the age of six and became a toned eight-year-old. It was the best feeling I had ever felt in my entire life.
But it all changed when I stopped breastfeeding just before his second birthday — when I found the lump.
I’ve never felt confidence in my body since and it’s two years since I looked at myself naked in a mirror. I deliberately avoid looking in the one in my bedroom and in shop changing rooms I don’t look until I’m fully clothed. My partner thinks I look fabulous, but women know it doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks, does it?
It was a time when I had to take off my clothes that my skin became very conscious of. But examining myself full-length in the mirror I could see it didn’t look obvious. What a lot of headspace I took up worrying about my scars. Now they’re not the first thing I see.
I will start looking at myself more often fully nude — it’s a revelation to discover it isn’t a big deal. It’s also a motivation to be healthier. It’s not my fault; it is mine.
I REFLECT MY EYES
Debs Wallbank (48), a menopause coach, lives in Much Wenlock and Shropshire. Debs says
Debs Wallbank, (pictured) states that even though she still wants to lose weight, she is not ashamed about how she looks.
Since I was a teenager, I have never seen myself naked. It is a terrifying thought. I’m not someone who ‘gets naked’ ever and I’d never let anyone, even my mum, see me undressed.
I don’t even have a mirror in my bedroom. I only look in mirrors when I have to, even when I’m dressed, and have trained myself to avert my eyes from anything reflective after being upset by what I saw so many times. I’m single, but if I am in a relationship I’m a ‘lights out’ kind of girl.
My body looks unattractive, large and wobbly. My boobs appear saggy and large. My stomach and bum are large.
I can recall in a heartbeat when I loved my physique the most — when I was living in London in 2008. At 8 st, I was very slim and remember snapping naked full-length pictures in front of the mirror. I loved my body.
I know self-esteem shouldn’t only centre on how we look but, for me, it has always been rather important.
Six years ago I began to gain weight after quitting a career in oil and gas. Soon I was having to buy clothes in sizes I’d never worn before. Yet I couldn’t bring myself to buy the size 16 I needed, instead kidding myself that I was still a 12 or 14.
I don’t remember the last time I wore swimwear or skimpy clothes. Now I weigh 14 st and, according to medical guidelines, I’m obese, yet when I say to my well – meaning girlfriends ‘I’m fat’, they tell me I am not.
That is who I am, and it’s up to me to accept that. It is important to accept myself. My mum was shocked to hear that I planned to take a naked pictureshoot. She was incredibly supportive.
When I got there, I felt anxious and really, really cringed at stripping down. My adrenaline was running like a river through my veins. In a few moments, however, I was switched off.
To see my feminine form with my boobs uncovered, my tummy on display — it was a mind-blowingly positive experience. It was easy to forget about self-consciousness. It was time to get out of hiding.
Now I have a different view of my body. Although I am trying to shed weight for my health, it is not something I feel ashamed of.
YEARS OF COMMENTS REGARDING MY THIGHS
Gail Crampton is a 55-year-old sales associate and Stephen is 53 years old. Stephen works as a senior director in the company’s business. Henry (23), and Isabelle (15) are her children. She resides in Wombourne and South Staffs. Gail says:
Gail Crampton (pictured), confesses that for years she felt ashamed about her body, and was often bullied regarding her weight.
My body is constantly being criticized. I would like to be more toned. I’ve got cellulite on my legs and thighs. I try to remind myself that I’ve got a lot to be grateful for.
I don’t like my body and have lived a lot of it. I only have a waist-up mirror in my room so I don’t have to look at my big bottom half and haven’t been in a shop changing room in years — I always buy online. I haven’t looked at my full naked body in decades.
In the past, people have been cruel about my big bottom or chunky thighs.
My bum was so prominent that it became a laughing matter.
It’s ironic that now young girls are having bum implants I can finally see that a large derriere could be something to be celebrated, not apologised for.
Recently, a girl told me that I had a good bottom. I could say thanks without having to wait for the punchline. It’s a shame I waited 30 years to feel good about it.
My body has seen dramatic changes since the menopause. I had hoped I’d die the same weight I’ve been throughout my adult life, yet I’ve put on a stone over the past five years. I would not have done that if it weren’t for my family.
I’ve worked in a health shop for 17 years and spend most days listening to women talking about how much they hate their bodies. But I’m as bad. I say terrible things whenever I see my reflection in a mirror.
Seeing myself full-length and naked wasn’t about being flattered with fancy lighting or complimentary camera angles — it was about being realistic about my body. Surprised, it was an amazing feeling and I was proud to have done it.
What made me feel like I couldn’t love my body all these years? As a woman of 55 I recognise, and can finally say, I’ve still got it.
Finallly, I Feel Like The Real Me AGAIN
Lisa Arterton (trauma therapist), is 39 and married to Edward (41). Edward is a personal coach. Their three children are Ellie, 13 years old, Lucia, 6, and Hugo, 1. They currently live in Cheshire. Lisa says:
Lisa Arterton (pictured), says she doesn’t feel embarrassed or ashamed about her body.
My body is so mumsy right now — it’s just not sexy. It was fourteen months ago that I gave birth to my third child. Although I’ve lost the baby weight, my body looks incredibly different because I haven’t been able to be consistent with exercise. It has been difficult for me to go back to work and look after my three children.
As a result the backs of my arms shake, I’ve got protruding veins on my legs, my belly is wrinkly, soft and wobbly. I’m still breastfeeding and my boobs are saggy. I feel self-conscious because my body isn’t how it used to be.
It sounds awful doesn’t it? Even though I don’t have any life-threatening health issues or other concerns, it is what I think about myself.
I haven’t looked at my body naked since before I got pregnant in 2020.
My husband is a great man and I am sure he loves me. He said something very sweet about my body telling him stories of how it fed and housed our children. I was a little more irritated because he can also clearly feel my bumps and lumps.
When he wraps arms around my stomach, I cringe. He even moves away from the loving embrace.
During sex, I insist on keeping a bra on.
I also wear loose clothes and don’t have a full-length mirror.
My six-year old asks me about having another baby, and a small part of me goes.
I had a spray tan last month and at the time I told myself ‘never again!’ I hated exposing my body, even to another woman.
I don’t want to feel this way, though, so I agreed to try the shoot even though the prospect terrified me.
While I was taking off, my heart was racing. However, I found that looking at my naked self helped me reconnect to my body.
I hadn’t realised that’s what would happen, but it was absolutely what I needed. I didn’t nitpick. I realized I was still pretty. Before this I’d want to fade into the background.
I was a bedraggled, smothered mother when I arrived and felt like the real me upon my departure.