Acceptance.
I am beginning a project today. My goal is to desensitize myself to some of the nonsense that goes on in my head.
I have always felt awkward. In girl terms, that usually conflates with ugly or unattractive, but it needn’t. It does in my case, though. Objectively, I’m probably average looking (I have two eyes, two ears, a nose, and all my teeth), but it’s hard to be objective about things that scare you. Emotion pokes its head in like a pesky neighbor who likes to stir shit up.
“She has a big nose,” it nods knowingly.
“I heard she has bad skin,” it whispers. “And cellulite.”
On top of everything else, I am getting older. While people tell you it will happen, and you can see for yourself when people get older that physical changes occur, it’s a bit of a shock when it happens to you. I’ve always looked young for my age, but it’s been years since anyone has carded me. The change is here.
Lately, I’ve been taking pictures of myself because I have days when I feel particularly invisible to myself and others—disconnected, I suppose. There’s no reason for it—I’m around people all the time—but I do.
I also feel ugly. I am surrounded by images of women I will never look like, and naturally, everyone else looks better. Even with my friends who think that they are unattractive, I look at them and envy their hair or their smile. I think this is not an unusual state of affairs, seeing as a lot of us complain we’re not good enough. Unfortunately, I believe this neurosis of comparing ourselves to others and judging ourselves based on what we lack is pretty pervasive. It takes different forms, but we’re all airbrushing and filtering and picking at our skin and starving ourselves and generally feeling unsatisfied. Or maybe it’s just me? I don’t know, but it seems we all feel a little disconnected and we’re all taking photographic evidence of it.
So I’m going to face my fear.
I am particularly unphotogenic. It has to do with proportion and bone structure, so don’t try to argue about it with me, because I will show you the math. I know intellectually it shouldn’t matter, but it does. Cameras fill me with anxiety. I have a fear of being judged anyway, so the idea of being judged about my appearance—something I can do next to nothing about—leaves me feeling extra unsteady.
I’m going to lean into it. Life’s too short to live with anxiety about something as stupid as this.
I will be photographing myself once daily, whenever I feel like, however I feel like. I will take one shot, no filter, and whatever it looks like, it does. It will not be me—I could have a thousand photographs, and it wouldn’t be me. It will be an image of me as captured by an uninterested lens. My aim is to make peace with my tormentor—if it doesn’t mind, why should I? I also happen to hate my voice, but I’ve had to record my voice for my job for years, and while I still cringe when it starts, I get over it much more quickly now. It is what it is. I’d like that for my physical appearance, too. Fuck it. Done. Let’s move on.
And that’s the end goal: I want to move on with my life. I want to care less. I want to live more without worrying. There are other more pressing things going on in the world and I’d like to see to them without stopping to wonder what I look like doing it.
I’ve shared the one photo up there to mark the beginning of this project, but I won’t be sharing any more because the whole thing is about me dealing with my issues, not proving myself to anybody else. Having said that, if anyone else has similar issues and would like to try this, I’m happy to talk to you about it. I think we are all worth accepting—even me—just as we are.