Wednesday, December 3, 2008

The alter super-ego

Time for a new profile picture. The thumbnail representation of persona, who I want you to believe I am and using only the best angles and lighting. What’s my motivation? Do I go tits again (self love to those who’ve asked to see more), or Tina-Fey-glasses-take-me-serious-as-an-essayist pose? Perhaps Shirley Manson-Garabagesque.

I’m leaning towards risqué. Between firemen, dick chat and erotic dreams, I’m bringing frisky back (with thanks to the pokey thyroid meds I railed so hard against). But there's that fine line between saucy and salacious. For a minute-and-half I’d posted a photo in a blog reflecting results of much hard work, the half-point on the “I Love Me More” health and fitness tour. It’s my favorite new picture; instead of sloping shoulders disappearing into fleshy arms, it shows squared, defined edges holding up a beautiful clavicle. Much cleavage, perky where needed and toned in the thighs. I have a waist, hips. But since I took the picture myself, reflected back in a mirror and wearing a vintage-looking black slip, it’s a bit Craigslist and I quickly pulled it.

Didn’t think it through to comments typed with one hand.

I’m sexy. It’s as odd a concept as suddenly sprouting a third thumb or waking up a foot taller. I have a way to go yet, and more work to do, but love and stroke my body at every stage, at every weight and as flab moves to lean. I finally get it. That I shop in the ladies department at Macy’s after a decade confined to Lane Bryant is perhaps the greatest thrill of all.

I have a long-time friend, a photographer. At 27, my heart shattered by rejection, he and I did a photo shoot together. Never comfortable in pictures up to that point, I needed to find me after not being seen by a man I thought I'd fallen in love with. It took a good many mimosas to calm strong shaking but I did it. I still recall dreading the first look through an eye scope at tiny squares filled with my image. I remember saying out loud, "These aren't bad. I look…good.” I cherish those photos now. I see a young girl in B&W and the first pecks to crack a thick shell of insecurity built on childhood taunts and never feeling pretty. I’m proud of her. It may be time to capture her again.

That’s not my face now.

5 comments:

Don said...

You did look good. You should be proud of her, and who she became and is becoming. Yes. Quite becoming.

Craigslist as an adjective: love that.

Ole Blue The Heretic said...

The only picture you need to worry about is how you see yourself.

Sweet charm and beauty is you.

Cody Bones said...

Lets just run under the assumption that you Rock. End of story

Miz UV said...

You have a sweet face at any weight -- reminds me a little of Valerie Bertinelli. But good on ya for making all that progress. It's really hard work!

Crys said...

i thought Valerie Bertinelli too! beautiful.

and thanks, hon, for the shout out.

*kiss*

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