I did something outrageous this weekend. Well, outrageous for me, anyway. After ten years of marriage and years of my husband begging, I had boudoir photographs taken as a Valentine’s gift. I’m a little shy, so it took a bit of courage and more than one flute of pink champagne, but it happened and I must admit, it was so much fun. I don’t know what took me so long. I have nothing against boudoir photography, in fact, I love the sensual images of beautiful women who are not afraid to be powerful, sexy, feminine beings. In two hours time I went from a nervous wreck to a blissed- out glamour girl. Champagne helps, but also being pampered by a professional hair and make up artist, (thank you, Kelsey Dickson) and then romping around a luxurious hotel suite in mind bogglingly high heels, stockings, rues and lace while a fun and creative photographer (thank you, Angela Waterberg) gives endless pointers as to how to appear waaaaay sexier than one actually is... well, it was just fabulous. I find that sometimes, as a mother, it’s hard to remember who I am outside of that role. My kids are the most important thing in the world to me, just like any other mom out there. But it was so revitalizing to step outside of it for an afternoon and just forget about the endless responsibilities and obligations. For those few hours it really was all about me. I have to say, quite honestly, I enjoyed My Self. And it wasn’t like I was remembering who I used to be, not in a mid-life crisis-y kind of way. It more of an awakening to the possibilities of who I could become. Not just a sex kitten, but anything at all. Just like that, I was empowered. It was a magical moment. Who knew running around in one’s skivvies could do such a thing?