I’m tempted to say that I’ve never enjoyed having my picture taken, but I’m fairly certain that there was a time in my childhood when I would pose for the camera without any awkwardness or self-consciousness. That being said, those days are long gone … or were long gone, before I undertook my 40th year adventure.
I have struggled with esteem issues all my life. Rarely have I felt pretty, or sexy, or happy with my various body parts. I’ve never been able to look at myself in a photo without picking it apart. Oh sure, an occasional compliment might come to mind, but more likely I’d be cringing at the sight of myself – that muffin top, or the cellulite on that leg, or the double chin, or the eyebrows that needed plucking, or the big arms, or the blotchy skin. Not too long ago, when posting a photo on social media – a photo in which I looked ... not my best – I couldn’t help but preface the post with a few words about how bad the picture was. Bottom line: I don’t like to see myself on film. That’s just the way it is.
As part of my 40th year’s journey, I had originally added to my list an item about “taking selfies", because until a few months ago, I felt like the most awkward selfie-taker on the planet. Between the strange fish bowl effect that so often was the result of a selfie, and the internal twisting that occured with the very idea of taking my own photo ... well, you can imagine how much I detested the whole concept of a "selfie". So hey, why not take a whole series of selfies, just to torture myself?
(And how many more times can I use the word "selfie" in one paragraph?)
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| Face through a fish bowl? Not the most flattering look. |
While I have to admit that this particular idea filled me with more than a little dread, I decided that the one caveat to doing it was that I didn’t have to share the photos with anyone. Stepping outside of this particular box was just for me. A fair deal, I thought. A way to make me just a little more open to taking on this risk … because for me, it truly was a risk. A scary undertaking. A chance to see myself as I really am and just live with it. Can I get a collective UGH?
As I thought about “taking a series of selfies”, I wondered what that process would look like. How did I want to frame this experience? Then I remembered that a friend of mine had, on multiple occasions, mentioned a class she had taken that was focused on this very topic. I went to her Facebook page and searched her timeline until I found the information I needed. Minutes later, I was reading all about the photographer and the class. It didn’t take long to commit. Be Your Own Beloved sounded like a journey that I needed to take! I paid my fee without a second thought, plugged it into the calendar, and then waited for the first day to arrive.
In a nutshell, Be Your Own Beloved is a month-long journey of self-portraiture where you focus on being kinder to yourself, of looking at yourself and your world from a different perspective, of moving beyond the physical and truly seeing who you really are. It teaches you to look at your face, your body, your inner self with softer eyes, with forgiveness, with acceptance, with joy, and with pride. If you’re interested in taking this course or want to know more about it, I strongly encourage you to read about it on the photographer's website, in her own words. Her name is Vivienne McMaster, and she is fabulous. She intuitively knows what you need, because she has been on this journey herself – many times.
I admit that in the beginning, I wasn’t completely bought in to the experience. I was hesitant, cautious, skeptical. Deep down, I wasn’t convinced it would change me in any significant way. But I was still committed to giving it a try - if for nothing but my own curiosity and the fact that it sounded interesting. I remember that I even imagined this post and how my conclusion at the end would be that I still don't like taking selfies. Ha! With each prompt, and with the support of Vivienne and my classmates, I found myself getting more creative with my photos. More accepting. More ... complimentary.
Was I still critical of every single photo? Of course I was! A month of self-portraiture won’t miraculously chase away the gremlins (otherwise known as the voices of the internal critic). But what I found was that there were moments when I truly felt pretty. I could look at a photo and say, “Wow, I like this one” or “My eyes are so expressive” or “I’m looking cute here!” There was even a photo prompt where we were challenged to tell the gremlins exactly what we think of them. My answer to that? Punching them – beating them back.
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| Take THAT, gremlins! |
By the end of my month-long journey, I had photos that I would classify as: weird, flirtatious, artistic, fun, boring, sexy, soulful, unique, ugly, and yes … beautiful. And look, I'm even sharing some of them right here! So much for keeping them to myself, eh? These are some of my favourites ...
The best thing about this entire experience? I haven’t stopped taking selfies. Oh sure, I still look at every photo with a critical eye. But I’m not as afraid to document myself being silly. I’m not as afraid to have a “bad” photo where my double chin shows, or my nose looks big, or my hair is mussed, or my glasses are falling down my nose like an old lady. I might even open myself up to just being goofy and sharing the moment with others. Case in point: I recently took a photo with a bra on my head. Long story for another time.
If there is one thing I’ve learned from this particular experience, it’s that we have to find ways to silence the inner critic. I have many inner critics, as I’m sure we all do. Sometimes they speak as individuals … sometimes, as a group. Regardless of how they tackle me, they always manage to steal the colour from my world. Everything looks a little greyer … a little duller. But when I silence them – or better yet, when I confront them – I not only get a moment’s peace, I get the colour back. It may not be pretty, and I may not like what I see. But the colour is there. I’m more in tune with myself … and my world … as a result.
I fully intend to do the prompts for this course again. Or maybe I'll enroll in another of Vivienne's courses. I’m not sure if I’d have had the experience I did without her excellent guidance. I’m not sure if I’d have even come close. I want to thank her for helping me see myself differently. I want to thank her for the kindness she extended to me … and the kindness she taught me to extend to myself. It’s a work in progress, of course. But then … so am I.
