Another of our babely 40+ women came in as part of the casting call and KILLED her session. This babe had non-stop energy, was super flirty, and had some of the best wardrobe pieces (including an epic Hot Sauce bodysuit from Forever 21)! This saucy little minx came out to play and man, did we have a ton of fun doing her boudoir session. She definitely left feeling more empowered & hungry for more! Here is Miss L. slaying her session.
Age is Only A Number ~ Winnipeg Boudoir Photography
I have been waiting on a pile of sessions to blog, waiting for questionnaires to roll in, so I am super excited to bring Miss A. to the blog today. This babe was one of the women who responded to my 45+ casting call to show that age is just a number and nothing a woman should fear. Miss A's story was incredibly awe-inspiring and she is one of the strongest women I know. While her story is hers to share, I just want you readers to know that our daily struggles are literally NOTHING. Without further adieu, here is the incredible Miss A, proving to us that age & adversity have no effect on a person's beauty, worth, and ability to succeed.
At 45years old I had emergency openheart surgery to repair my mitral valve, which suddenly failed and left me gasping for breath in the fall of 2014, I was hospitalized in isolation for 6 weeks after developing a hospital acquired infection post-op.
I was determined not to let it break my spirit and was occasionally found behind the curtain of my isolation room cracking dirty jokes and eating sushi with cousins and friends. At one point I was getting a big case of cabin fever and pondered if Pinterest had any ideas about how to remodel a wall curtain out of bendy straws.
I finally made it home and began to feel stronger each day. After about 6 months in the spring of 2015, I felt pretty good.
One day I even played with my fur baby Whitney in the yard of our secluded country home and waited for my sweet and medically fragile foster daughter's school van to bring her home at the end of her school day. When the van pulled into the drive I was well and happy. I opened the back door to the van and gave that beautiful smiling girl a kiss and asked if she had a good day. Then I went to open the front door and my right arm began to tingle, I couldn't reach for her bag on the floor. After 17 years of nursing experience under my belt, I knew exactly what was happening.
The van driver was a kindly older women. She asked me if I was ok as I grabbed my right arm and my response was "nanananana". I couldn't speak although I tried but my brain wouldn't make my mouth move either. I was having an acute stroke.
I lived in such an isolated area and only had a cell phone but couldn't speak and I had left it in the garden. The driver couldn't get a signal with hers.
Finally by doing some elaborate charades with my left side I was able to direct her to my phone. My right leg no longer worked. I needed to give medical info about my foster daughter but I couldn't write either. My brain forgot how words work or what letters looked like.
We were lucky that I had always kept a daily journal of her needs and was able to point to that.
Finally the ambulance arrived and I knew the attendants from the local hospital I had worked at.
I made charade jokes about being lame and going commando that day. After a 45 min ride to the city I was able to utter a single word once. It encompassed everything, it's a fine word, my favorite word in fact "Fuck".
I laughed with my droopy face, my wrinkles disappeared on that side of my face as though I'd been injected with extreme botox.
I understood everything but was locked in a language prison. Terrified that my little one wouldn't get the care she needed, I couldn't relate a single word to the emergency room social worker about her or even my own medical case or prescriptions to the team of doctors and nurses furiously working on all sides of me. I have allergies to meds but they never managed to guess which ones. I hoped for the best.
I struggled to recover my speech for several months. Words gradually returned but I had acquired some new strange accent that somewhat resembled a monotone Russian woman. I figued," hey, accents are sexy", I could work with it. It made my medical team laugh and I was determined not to prove that saying that nurses make the worst patients.
I worked hard at recovery in language, speech, smiling, moving. I've always been pretty competitive with myself.
I still struggled and wasn't really able to communicate to my husband that some things just wouldn't ever be the same with my brain. I was forgetful, couldn't do simple math or concentrate enough to read a full page. I was just learning what letter shapes made words again.
These things angered him, I had become a burden to him. I couldn't go back to my nursing career. To him I was lazy. I didn't try hard enough.
We put our house up for sale, moved to Gimli in March of 2016. My parents live there and our boys had flown the nest before I had medical issues and got jobs there. I was lonely, I had lost my beautiful sweet foster daughter back to the system after my stroke. Feeling as though I had failed her, I so wanted to be her forever home, her link to her bio family and Inuit culture, her last stop but alas I was nothing more than another placement in cycle of temporary homes. This is the only regret of all I have lost in the last 2 1/2 years.
I left my husband of 25 years shortly after moving here. I had no friends and didn't know the city at all. Leaving him wasn't smooth and I ended up in hiding for several months in Northern Ontario. I met some really great feminist strong women who helped me heal and allow myself to mourn what I'd lost but more importantly they reminded me of how strong and brave I was.
I moved to Winnipeg this past October and have made some truly amazing and supportive friends who welcomed me into their homes, lives and hearts.
I have speech therapy still and I struggle with memory issues and concentration but I defiantly don't struggle with the decisions I've made. I love this new city with all I have. It's my home where I grow stronger, more beautiful and worthy of happiness and love everyday.
This city loves me back by bringing all these loving souls into my life.
I'm a warrior, survivor, lover of life and "Hey, did you see my rockin' 48 year old ass?"
Miss A has been through more struggles than many of us and I truly believe it was her inner strength and ability to see humor and light in every experience that the universe dealt her. It's women like her that remind me every day, just how fragile our lives are and how we do the things we know in our hearts to do.