In the early years of my career as a funeral director, I made a decision that would forever alter my path. Forty years ago, I accepted an offer to pose for Playboy a choice that was met with skepticism and warnings of career ruin. Little did I know, this bold move would not only save me from burnout but also redirect my life in the most unexpected ways.
Funeral service is a profession steeped in ritual and respect where compassion and emotional stamina are paramount. It is meaningful work, but it is also emotionally and physically demanding. Carrying other people’s grief while managing your own can quietly erode over time, leading to a sense of restlessness and depression. This was the crossroads at which I found myself.
An Unconventional Respite
Posing for Playboy was not an act of rebellion but a moment of relief. It was a respite from the grief-laden world I inhabited daily. Under the studio lights, I felt a sense of calm and ease that I had not experienced in months. The photographer noted, “You look like you’re breathing easily again.” He was right. I was.
This experience was a reminder that I was more than my job. It allowed me to step outside the confines of my profession and remember that I was still a whole person. Had I not taken that opportunity, burnout might have swallowed me whole. The photo shoot became a turning point, a moment of self-discovery that redirected my life.
The Publicity Tour and Beyond
During the publicity tour, I met people who expected a caricature of a nude model with nothing to say beyond the page. Instead, they met a funeral director who could talk about ritual, grief, and the meaning of remembrance. The contrast fascinated them, and it surprised me too.
On a guest appearance on a popular daytime talk show in the 1980s, the host asked why a funeral director would pose for Playboy. I responded, “Because I needed to remember I was alive.” The phone lines lit up with women calling in to say they understood—that they, too, had made choices others didn’t understand, choices that helped them reclaim some part of themselves.
Those conversations stayed with me. They were the first hint that my story wasn’t just mine. It belonged to every woman who had ever stepped outside expectation long enough to find herself again.
A Message of Reinvention
The unconventional choices we make in our 20s and 30s often look different through the lens of midlife and beyond. What once felt risky can reveal itself as necessary. What others labeled a detour can turn out to be a turning point.
You may have your own version of that choice—a moment you feared would unravel your life but ended up stitching you back together. Sometimes the thing people warn you not to do becomes the thing that saves you. Sometimes the moment you think might derail your life becomes the moment that redirects it.
And sometimes, in a wonderful and unexpected way, the choice that others misunderstand becomes the one that helps you become more fully yourself.
