Life-affirming bond that made these women bare their souls – and bodies

ONE by one, seven women step out of a changing room and into a photo studio, wearing nothing more than a dressing gown over a set of M&S undies. They gather in an atmosphere of nervous excitement. Make-up artists expertly dab on powder and fuss over their hair, while they turn to each other and ask: ‘Are we really going to do this?’ What will the neighbours have to say about it all, someone wonders aloud. Another questions whether their children’s teachers will be able to look them in the eye at the next parents’ evening.

But as they are called onto set, the firm conclusion is that they have each faced far greater challenges than standing in front of a camera in their bras and knickers. With that in mind, the dressing gowns are cheerfully discarded.

What unites these perfectly ordinary women, who possess extraordinary mettle, is that they have all been deeply affected by breast cancer.

Their stories span a broad spectrum of experiences when it comes to living with the disease.

This week, pictures of them wearing little more than their underwear and a smile will appear in Marks & Spencer stores

Knowing what must be done does away with fear ROSA PARKS, CIVIL RIGHTS ACTIVIST

across the country. Modelling items from the pink bras range, they are the faces and bodies of the company’s Breast Cancer Awareness Month campaign for 2017.

Breast cancer affects one in eight women in the UK, but genetic testing is only offered to women with a strong family history of the disease.

M&S has partnered with Breast Cancer Now to raise £13 million to fund the charity’s scientific research to better understand the risk factors associated with breast cancer. It’s hoped that this initiative will prevent 9,000 cases a year by 2025.

Here, the women explain why they decided to strip off for a good cause.

MY HUSBAND WILL BE SPEECHLESS

LesLey stephen, 51, gave up her job as a communications consultant three years ago after being diagnosed with incurable stage 4 breast cancer. she lives with her husband, Doug, 46, a HR director, their three sons and a daughter, in edinburgh. THESE pictures are my great legacy to my family and everyone I love. I don’t know how much longer we have together, but this is how I want them to remember me: looking my best, full of life and happiness, despite where breast cancer has put me.

It’s a well-worn cliche that we should all try and live in the moment. But living as I do, between four-monthly scans that always threaten to tell me my cancer has spread even further, has forced me to do just that.

And in a strange way, this means I’m happier now than before my diagnosis, because every day feels like the most precious gift. This new mindset is what gave me the strength to do this.

When I first talked to my husband Doug about whether I should get involved in the campaign, I felt very unsure about it all. I’m not the kind of person to put myself out there.

But then he asked me: ‘What’s the worst that could happen?’, before pointing out that nothing is more terrible than having to face up to your own mortality, and I knew I wanted to go ahead.

I’m so glad I did. The treatment that has kept me alive has changed the way I look — I’ve lost my hair twice and the steroids I had to take made me gain weight.

To see myself looking so vibrant again makes me feel incredibly proud of my resilience — I feel attractive; I’m very much alive.

When Doug sees these pictures I’m certain he’ll be speechless. I hope that they go on to be a source of pride, and ultimately comfort, for him and our children long into the future.

I’M VIBRANT, HAPPY AND FULL OF LIFE

HELEN PEEDELL, 52, was diagnosed with grade 3 intraductal breast cancer last september after finding a lump in her breast during a routine self-examination. she and her husband, simon, 40, run a flooring and furniture business. they live near Abingdon in Oxfordshire with their sons Luke, 24, and Alfie, 13. FOR my first family day out after I lost my hair to chemotherapy I wore a wig to hide my baldness.

It was itchy and incredibly uncomfortable, yet when my 13-year-old son, Alfie, saw me struggling and urged me to nip to the ladies to take it off, I refused.

‘I’m too embarrassed,’ I told him. ‘People will stare.’

Alfie looked at me, aghast. Before firmly stating: ‘I don’t care who stares. You’re still beautiful.’

It was a defining moment and I left those toilets with my head uncovered. Alfie was so proud and I know all my family will be too when they see these pictures of me, modelling in my M&S undies, on giant posters.

In the photos you can clearly see I no longer have any bust. My shape has changed dramatically — following a double mastectomy I’ve gone from a 34F to nothing. You can also see I’m vibrant, happy and full of life.

Eventually, I’ll be able to have reconstructive surgery, but I’m not sure I’ll ever actually go ahead with that — I feel so incredibly positive about my body as it is.

It hasn’t just survived cancer, it’s come through gruelling treatment that was always going to leave its mark. Despite looking different now, whether dressed or in my underwear, I still feel like the woman I always was.

I hope my pictures will speak to the women going through treatment who wonder if they’ll ever be beautiful again. I hope they will say to them ‘you already are’, just as my son did to me when I was at such a low point myself.

I DON’T NEED A BUST TO FEEL WOMANLY

HEATHER SHEKEDE, 42, is a children’s nursing lecturer. she was diagnosed with stage 3 cancer in 2007, and underwent aggressive surgery, chemo and radiotherapy. ten years on she’s completely clear of cancer. she lives in Croydon with her 14-year-old son. CANCER took away more than my breast — it stole a year of my life, much of which I spent reeling at the thought I might not get to watch my little boy, then four, grow up.

It quickly went from me finding what the doctor thought was a small cyst, to being told I had stage 3 breast cancer at the age of 32. I felt my future had been stolen from me.

The treatment was brutal. I had a full mastectomy, radiotherapy, chemotherapy and then long-term drug treatment. My poor body became so battered, cut and bruised. There were many times when I felt as though it belonged to the doctors and not me.

But as the months passed, and it began to look as though the aggressive treatment I received was working, I felt overwhelming gratitude and relief.

I started to reclaim my body as my own again.

That was ten years ago, and I’m still strong and well.

I’ve been left with a great sense that life is what you make of it. That’s one of the reasons behind these pictures — I wanted to show other women that breast cancer might take a great deal from you, but eventually it is possible to leave it in the past.

Meanwhile, I could have had a new breast reconstructed, but I decided against it. I don’t need a bust to feel like a woman.

Anyway, I have so many other body parts to be proud of — for example, a beautiful smile and gorgeous eyes.

I focus on enjoying what’s good about my body rather than dwelling on what I lost, and I hope that shines through in my pictures.

I know it will mean the world to my family — especially my mum — to see me in such a positive light. They helped me through the very worst of times and this is a way of showing them everything really is OK again.

THE PICTURES SHOW HOW FAR I’VE COME

KATIE HUGHES, 33, was diagnosed with breast cancer two years ago, and has had surgery and radiotherapy. she is a legal PA and lives with her partner, Johnny giles, 35, a businessman, in surrey. WHEN you’re diagnosed with breast cancer, people talk about how brave you are and what a fighter you must be as you go through your treatment.

But actually, the only truly courageous thing I’ve done since my diagnosis is this — posing for pictures in my underwear that will be seen by those closest to me as well as complete strangers.

There have been times during the past two years when I’ve felt so utterly crushed and afraid that I’ve found myself in some very dark places.

Throughout my treatment, bravery didn’t enter into it. There was this huge medical team fighting my corner, working towards me getting better. I was told where I needed to be and they did the rest.

But when it came to posing for