my favorite pictook publicity shots for my show this past saturday. i know i'm a performer/attention whore, but i actually hate getting my picture taken. not true. i don't mind getting the photo taken, it's the looking at it afterwards i abhor. i have this strange fear that i'm going to discover some flaw in my body or visage that i've failed to notice during my daily grooming process, and here i've been walking around thinking i'm perfectly normal, when really, no one can stop staring at my giant hump back, whispering...does she know she has that? she can't possibly know, otherwise she'd be wearing a burka.
you know what i mean tho. those times you've looked at photos of yourself, and sometimes, you're pleasantly surprised:
wow. i don't have a double chin.
that new lip venom gloss does make my lips look like Claudia Schiffer's.
but then, there are those other times, you've looked at photos of yourself, and you are horrified:
why didn't anyone tell me my new dye job makes my hair look like cotton batting?
cottage cheese...good with strawberries and bananas. not so good on thighs in a swimsuit.
but then, i guess that, in and of itself is a healthy process. if you can, of course, look at yourself, pseudo-objectively, see the imperfections (the slight, skewed underbite that my braces didn't correct that shoves my chin a little to the left, my ample belly that looks practically pregnant, my father-was-a-pro-linebacker shoulders) and love yourself anyway. okay, let's be realistic. accept yourself. loving myself is sometimes just a wee too ambitious. like certain people. i might not loooove them, but i accept them. hating them just takes up way to much energy.
god...what could i have been, done, etc. if i hadn't spent so much energy on this body perfection obsession?
sheesh. that's a whole other post, and i just don't have the energy.
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