“Hey, Mark?”
“Yeah?”
“I am thinking of taking down that post I put up with the photos. Everyone who cares has seen the photos of me and the girls by now. I think I will take them down.”
“Do what you want, but if you take them down, you’re just going to be drawing attention to the fact that they make you uncomfortable.”
“I know. But the photos will be gone.”
“You think no one has copied those photos out of your blog? Don’t be silly, Kris. No backsies on the internet, remember?”
Sigh, “So I should just let that post get buried under other posts?”
“Yes. Just let it go, babe. You are the only person freaking out. No one else sees what you see.”
“Yes, but I don’t think people understand why the photos were so hard for me. I think people are under the impression that I am enormously insecure about my physical appearance. People are reassuring me that I am cute, babe. People are annoying me.”
People? I am a normal looking woman and I am all kinds of fine with myself. I am not an unattractive person. I am a normal person. A regular woman. Forty four years old. Shortish and smallish. With boyishly short hair. No make-up. No fussiness. In a T-shirt and jeans always.
My issue is not with my appearance . . . I mean, what’s the point of wanting to be anyone other than who I am? I love who I am. I have all fucking kinds of issues, but I am pleased with who I am.
I am all regular. But somehow, to me, in a photo?
Less.
Sigh.
I have a vision of myself. And when I look in the mirror? On most days, I am pleased with who I see. But in a photo, I never feel as though it is me. I am always surprised. I look smaller, less attractive, less engaging, less happy, less friendly . . . than I feel inside as I go about my day. I am always somehow less in photos than I feel.
Less.
And I am insecure. Have you noticed that part about me yet?
And so even though the person with the camera is almost always someone I know and love? I am insecure about the less that will be revealed in the finished photograph. And so although I try to be easy and confident when the girls run around with their cameras? When Mark snaps a photo? When I pose with friends?
Inside I cringe at the less that will be revealed.
Less.
Does that make any sense at all to you?
I carry a lot of less around with me all the time. As I have gotten older, the less I contain is not as sharp as it used to be. It is easier to hold that less tightly within myself without being injured anew. I used to hold shards of glass that stabbed me with every movement. Now the broken edges have been rounded and smoothed with the passage of time.
Beach glass within me.
What remains is a heaviness . . . a weight.
A weight and a fear of new cracks.
So I hold myself carefully . . . to support the weight and to keep the glass from shifting and shattering.
I hold myself carefully to keep others from noticing my self-protective stance.
I cover with bravado and false confidence and sassiness and intelligence and sex. I like that version of myself. It is me. A version of me.
And then when someone takes a photo of me, and I look? All I see is the less, as though the camera sees past all the work that I do to who I am inside. Who I used to be.
A version of me.
Less.
How is that possible, do you think?
And so although I have no issue with you knowing what I look like? I shudder at the thought of you seeing the less.
Ugh.
So there is no way for you to respond that does not annoy me.
If you gush and compliment? I am annoyed with your small reassuring lies.
If you are silent? I am crushed.
If you speak of my “inner beauty?” I feel as though you are being condescending.
There is no way for you to win. No way for me to allow you to win.
I never like my photo to speak for me, as I feel it undermines me.
I undermine me.
Yes, I know.
Possibly, somewhere in this world? But hopefully not? There are old photos of me. And in those photos?
I am not just less.
But least.
And that memory lingers.
Like a photograph in my mind.
Very sharp.
I get this. I get this a lot.
Love to you, seeing one.
Much love.
This is how I feel about pictures of myself… its hard to overcome but I’m trying. I see the less where my husband sees more… sigh my internal voice sucks sometimes.
Yes . . . internal voices are a bitch.
They so do.
Well 1) I meant the compliment. So there. And 2) In your writing, you could never be “less.” At least not to me. And I hope, not to you, either.
1) Whether or not the compliment is sincere? I have issues with the offering.
2) In my writing? I am never less in my mind.
Not ever.
Not even today, when I acknowledge the less.
I am always pleased with my words.
Always.
writing is healing. i love this. i love that your words are always enough.
thanks for letting us “see” your outer shell. although we see you much deeper everyday through your words.
Oh, I love that you came back to read this post.
Thank you, babe.
I do want to be seen here on Pretty All True.
But I am fonder of the me I show you with my words than the me that shows up in a photograph.
Thank you for understanding that.
I think we all have versions of ourselves that are less and more that what we are at any given moment. For some, they are physical attributes, for some, bits of character, for you, photographs. The key is never to let less or more overshadow what is, and that – I think – you manage beautifully in your writing.
It sounds like you manage just fine in real life as well.
And Mark’s right. Totally no backsies on the internet.
Yes . . . Mark is always right.
And I didn’t want to really take the photos down. Not really.
I just wanted to explain the difficulty they pose for me.
So that I can move forward.
I am tired of being stuck.
So forward I go.
And thank you . . . I do manage just fine.
In my life and in my writing.
I really really do.
I get this too Kris. I like the way I look but I hate taking pictures. I am just not comfortable in front of a camera. I can’t fake smile worth a crap so whenever I take a picture usually the first thing I say is please don’t put that on facebook.
So yes I get what you mean by pictures showing less. A picture captures a moment in time but it never really truly defines someone. Maybe a picture of you just doesn’t quite capture all the vitality and energy that you truly have.
Tim -
Thank you. Your kindness and generosity and support are gifts to me.
Thank you very much.
Kris
Weird thing is that I don’t mind myself in the mirror – especially when getting ready for work – all sparkly and clean… then I GET to work and at the first toilet break I see… AUGH… WHO IS THAT? haha… same result as photos. Yuck!
adventuresinestrogen.blogspot.com
You went to spam . . . my apologies.
Thank you for letting me know.
In a mirror? I always see me as I imagine myself to be.
Good days and bad days . . . I am never surprised by a mirror.
Weird, the different issues we each have.
Love.
I like to stay behind the camera.
I am glad to have seen the pictures but I come here for your words. Your words have always been enough.
Yes, I tend to be the photographer.
I have very few photos of myself, and the ones I have?
Are of me looking away from the camera, or staring off into space, or pretending to be absorbed in listening to one of my children. Anything to not look directly into the camera. I am all tricky.
I would rather someone take a bad photo of me than a real one.
Interestingly, seeing your photo made you “more” to me…more genuine, more real, more YOU. And I so love that! Thank you for being real, in your amazing writing and in sharing yourself with us, body and soul.
See . . . I totally get that.
And I do want to be more real to my readers.
But it was difficult.
Love you.
I get it, as well. Photos condense, flatten, reduce. They strip all of our infinite layers down into one. They ARE less.
I look for myself in every picture taken of me. Most, void of my version of myself, I hate. The very few that have it, I hold to myself and treasure.
Here, in this space, your photo does not speak for you.
Your words speak for you.
The pictures and personalities you paint here speak for you.
The photo simply adds another layer to your words.
A sparkle of sass in the eyes.
A hint of something suggestive around the mouth.
Layers and layers and layers, slowly unfolding.
I appreciate the extra layer even more, knowing what it cost you to offer it.
Sigh.
I may now love you just a little bit.
If that’s OK.
You have perfect words.
I am all helpless when the perfect words are offered.
Swoon.
I give you leave to love me a little bit. Because I have come to love you a little bit.
Your words make me swoony, too, after all.
Vixen.
Happy sighs.
You make sense….. completely. Truely.
I know you want to hold some of yourself back.. hide that piece of you from the camera perhaps, but your writing (always) paints a picture… no photo really needed.
Love you, love your writing.
Thank you so very much.
I love my writing.
I love writing.
That I get to share my words here on Pretty All True?
The best things that has happened to me in quite a while.
Happy sighs.
pictures never capture what we want them to… at least I feel that way as well.
I haven’t been reading your blog all that long, but in the short time that I have, I have seen the bravado, confidence, sassiness, all that. But you also show your vulnerability, and so the “less” that you talk about, doesn’t seem less to me at all. It just makes you real. We’re all fucked up, some more than others. And the ones that don’t think they are? well, they are the ones who really need help :)
If we didn’t get to know the “less” of you then you would just be annoying and ….. well, annoying!
I am always amazed and pleased and so grateful when you guys get it right.
I worry so much that I will be misunderstood.
Or pitied.
But you guys always get it right.
Thank you, Cristina.
You got it right.
That means everything to me.
I do understand the less
Thank you for that.
I feel less alone than I did before.
Thank you.
Man…everybody gets this!
Is there a person in the world who really truly likes how they look in photos???
In the mirror I think I fool myself into thinking I look like I should.
In a picture I think the truth slaps me in the face.
Yuck.
But we are so much more than the less we see in our pictures.
We (you and I) rock!
Love you…
I love you as well.
But for me?
I am not slapped with the truth in a photo.
I am slapped with a memory.
But yes . . . you and I both rock.
We so fucking do.
Well there is no good way to comment on this one other than to say thank you for your honesty. I feel that “less” too and when I come and read amazing writers like you I would never think that you would ever feel “less.” I always think that I am the only one, so thank you for being honest about your less.
I think everyone carries around some less.
And everyone works to not let others see that less.
I’m not going to spill myself out onto the page . . .
But I needed to explain.
Thank you for reading.
I try to overcompensate in pictures…to be MORE than I am. and I always end up scrutinizing it and pouring over every detail of a picture of me. I don’t feel like what I see in my head ever looks like what I see in pictures.
I don’t know that a photo can ever really capture a moment or a person.
I prefer my memories.
My words.
My imagination.
I really do.