Get Naked Baking

GET NAKED BAKING… ERMMM …

OK. I will play along.

At least that is what I would tell myself if I saw this pic for the first time; trying hard not to show I was a bit uncomfortable, or worse, blushing.

Trained at deflecting any kind of below the belt comments, I would suggest:

It must be a game of charades we were playing. Must be a film.

Then attempting desperately to think of one with what looked like a half-naked wood nymph, I would suggest:

Modern day Tinkerbell? I know: ‘Lost in the woods?’

Well…no and, ermm, no.

Just what now seems like a very silly selfie dare in May.

In fact, exactly the sort of thing I would advise people not to do if you approached me in my day-to-day job.

Yet here I was taking pics of myself half naked after returning from a work trip with my heart literally pounding in my chest.

GET NAKED BAKING FOR WORLD NAKED GARDENING DAY

The dare: trying to get a half decent selfie for World Naked Gardening Day without any of my neighbours seeing.

In the meantime, the leaves (or rather branches) were literally poking me everywhere.

I know…

WHAT WAS I THINKING

A year later this is exactly the sort of cover I am hoping to use for my first ever cookbook.

What on earth for, you may wonder?

Surely you do not actually bake without any clothes on?

Well…

Let’s just say it has taken me almost a year to pluck up the courage to try and turn what I did when things got tough into something more meaningful.

The truth is, the woman looking at me in this pic looked like she belonged there; happy to be enveloped by this Acer Palmatum.

She looked comfortable in her own skin and it was the twinkle in her eyes and the way her hair blended with the leaves around her that stuck with me for weeks afterwards.

Like so many women who were caught up in the responsibilities of work and family life, this part of me had all but disappeared.

I had become so used to being “strong”, a full-time working wannabe supermom. After all, is that not what you did when you felt you had to do it all?

The me that loved to play and laugh and have fun did not have a place here with all this responsibility.

I BURIED HER

Filled her every waking hour with work, children’s activities and chores – this was the easy bit.

On the rare occasions her voice filled my head, I buried her deeper by doing more gardening, knitting, painting and sowing.

She had all but become one with the acer, she almost did get lost in the woods.

It was in my kitchen that she showed up, carefree and willing to take risks by turning recipes upside down, rebelling against decades of culinary tradition.

THIS WOMAN UNDERSTOOD THAT RISKS WERE OK

She knew that you baked from the same place that you cried and loved and that by being who you really were – even if this would take some time to remember – things would turn out OK.

This woman wanted to be set free and to embrace her, I had to strip back all those layers I had been building up for years.

I had to undress; really look at myself with no filters and love myself again.

I had to get naked baking.