In my new-found energy with making this blog, y’know, a fully-functioning blog without six-month gaps between each post – I’ve not only been making more of an effort to look good, but also grab actual photos of it so I can be vain as possible and post about my daily style.
You know, like actual bloggers do.
But sometimes it just doesn’t work out the way you want it to.
This day in particular I loved my outfit. I made the top, skirt and the necklace which made me proud, but also I thought it just looked great. I whacked on my favourite faux leather jacket, threw my camera at my best friend and posed in front of Whole Foods thinking I looked the bees knees.
But looking at the photos made me a little exasperated – the image I had in my mind of what I looked like didn’t stare back at me. In fact, I looked shorter and stockier than I think I’ve ever looked before, and it was disheartening.
I actually hated what I saw.
As my fingers hovered over “Delete” on these pictures, I realised something. You will not always look perfect. Maybe you’ll pose wrong, or the light will make you look strange, or your camera does something weird to contort your body. Or maybe your mental image of yourself really just doesn’t match up to your actual self.
Maybe you’ll see a photo and kinda hate yourself.
And maybe you’ll post them up, because that’s all part of you, in the end. Many years ago I hung up my self hatred, learned to love myself and say “fuck you” to the world – sometimes you have to say “fuck you” to yourself and that voice in your head that tells you that you’re not enough, let alone perfect.
Because sure, I look short. I look fatter than usual. My cleavage wasn’t as noticeable as it was in real life. My pose is all wrong.