I’m starting to really like taking these photos. I do not like photos of myself at all. AT. ALL. And I’m startled when people talk about style/fashion blogging as narcissistic, because to me it is the opposite: look! Here I am! Warts and all! Well, not warts, but stray chin hairs. You know.
It helps (and by that I mean hurts) that I’m a lousy photographer, the light in my house is terrible, and I don’t do any photo-editing. I really do look like that, but maybe a little less pixelated.
But, for me, it’s helped me become more at ease with my body, my face, my hair, and what styles look good on me and which ones don’t. I don’t feel any shame any longer in telling you that I have stomach pudge, and no, it really has nothing to do with having had children. My baby is five and a half. That’s not baby fat. That’s “34-year-old woman who eats cheese” fat. That’s my body. It works. It’s nice. OK, so maybe that’s a little bit narcissistic, but only in the way that exercise or taking care of yourself or seeing a doctor is. If caring about yourself is narcissism, and martyrdom is the goal, count me out.
It can go too far, though. When I looked at the photos I took today, I thought, “Hey! Look at that! I kind of have hips! Go ME!” And then I realized it was the camera angle and that, no, I am not in fact womanly or curvy (except in my stomach). I tried to get another photo straight on to capture it, but have I mentioned once or a thousand times that I’m kind of a lousy photographer?
Yeah, I am.
Sweater: J. Crew
Shoes: Remont Dorndorf