My daughter-in-law has given me three framed prints of her and my son in professional maternity portraits. In them, she is eight months pregnant. They are both more or less naked apart from a strategically placed sheet. What on earth do I do with them?
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Mrs HL, Medowie
Dear Mrs HL,
Wow, how times have changed. Isn’t it enough to have one photo of the mother-to-be wistfully patting her stomach with a Mona Lisa smile that hides what she is really thinking at the eight-month point which is ‘get this alien out of me’. No, not anymore, because along came Demi Moore with her blooming body on the front of Vanity Fair, and ever since, women have felt the need to go down the pregnancy portraiture path.
Over the years these photos have morphed into what could only be described as pregnancy porn where couples cavort in milk baths, ride naked on Clydesdales, crouch in rock pools wearing nothing more than strategically placed starfish, or recline on cowhide rugs with bits of vine wrapped around their genitals. The photos may meet the artistic proclivities of the photographer, but do they belong on a wall? I mean, we all know how they got pregnant. Do we need evidence?
I have no idea what you’re supposed to do with these portraits, but I suggest you repay the favour. You and your husband could pose for some artistic shots wearing nothing but g-strings, your bodies painted with images representing your hopes for your grandchild’s future. Frame them in time for Christmas. If your daughter-in-law is as progressive as she sounds, I’m sure she’ll have no problem hanging them in her lounge room. What a conversation piece when baby-to-be learns to talk.