For the love of God, please stop trying to take my picture!

The turning of a new year is generally a time for reflection and often declarations of what we plan to do differently in the coming year. I tend not to make resolutions because I only turn right around and break them a few weeks later. I have absolutely no idea what I did on January 1, 2015, but I started 2016 with a long walk. It’s my kind of weather today – grey and overcast (although admittedly I am desperate for some sunshine too since we haven’t had any in what feels like weeks), but no rain today and cool temps with a breeze. I threw on some clothes and a hat (because bed head is no one’s friend, no matter what Hollywood tries to sell) and headed out with some music. Since the first song that cycled up was David Bryan’s version of “In These Arms” with him singing and playing piano – and since he’s been the rock star of my dreams for over 30 years now – I figured that was a good sign for a nice walk and I was right. I managed about 3 miles, which is shorter than I’d hoped for, but my aging knees don’t always allow me to go as far as I might like. Sometimes the walk is more about thinking than anything else though, so rarely do I come back disappointed in whatever I’ve managed to accomplish.

I often pray during that time or simply ask God to speak to me. I’m not sure he had much of anything to say to me today, but that’s when I start spending time in my own head. Today as I walked, I realized that I do not like to look at myself, especially in photos.

It’s no secret that I do not like to have or allow my picture to be taken. It happens now and then, but more often than not, I avoid having my picture taken at all costs. I will sneak out of the room, hide in the back of the picture and try to literally hide behind someone else completely so I can’t be seen – do anything to avoid being photographed.

Most often I try to politely decline to be photographed, but people make a huge issue out of it. I’m at the point of saying that I’m afraid the camera is going to steal my soul so that folks will just LET. IT. GO. There are photos that exist of me out there in the world. I don’t look that different now than I did when those were taken, so I really think that should suffice. It simply makes me very uncomfortable to see photos of myself. I can get dressed and go someplace and think I look nice, but when I see the photos, they are just horrible and make me feel bad about myself. I don’t want to see myself that way and I shouldn’t have to look.

As I walked along this morning, those thoughts played in my head. I looked at my reflection in the mirror this morning before I left home (which I find infinitely more palatable than looking at photographs) to make sure my hat was on straight and I thought, “Hey, even in my workout gear, I look pretty good.” I had on form fitting clothes, which is something I’ve only been willing to do in the past year since I lost weight. My go-to outfits before that were always loose and baggy, as larger sizes were always more comfortable – both mentally and physically. Now I’m comfortable leaving home in form-fitting cropped leggings and a sleeveless slim shirt because they are more comfy for exercise and when I see myself in the mirror, I think it looks pretty good. Or at least ok. But show me a picture of me dressed like that and I might change my mind.

A key piece of this whole twisted scenario is that, as I said above, I lost weight in 2015. I can fit into smaller clothes (I’m insanely pleased that I can buy size Large now in shirts and sweaters when I can’t even remember a time I ever could do that) and with that is coming more confidence in my body. You always hear that the number on the scale should not be so important or that we should not assume that life is going to improve just because we shed a few pounds, but I don’t completely buy that. Life should not revolve around what size you are, but I found that my life HAS improved since I lost weight, if only in terms of how I feel about myself and that I have more confidence. I am comfortable with my body and in my own skin now and I wasn’t before. I think that comes through in my attitude and how I interact with the world. When you feel good about yourself (no matter your size), it shines through. It just so happens that when I was heavier, I did not feel good about myself and now I am taking better care of myself. By doing so I’m telling myself – both my physical AND my mental self – that I care about me and if I don’t care about me, why should anyone else? It has to start with me.

I don’t have perfect body by any means. I have fat and cellulite and rolls here and there, but I have less than I used to. I can see the changes. I have even gotten to a place where I can see myself naked in the mirror and be comfortable with that (apologies for that visual and any trauma it may cause someone at the thought of me naked). And yet, fully clothed photos of me really mess with my head. I’m not sure it makes any sense, but it’s still true.

I got to wondering today if my issue is more than simply not liking to look at myself in pictures. Am I afraid to really look at myself – my inside self? *pausing to ponder that briefly* Oh. Well. Let’s not ask hard questions that early in the year, right? Egads. That’s one to think on.

All I know for sure is that on this New Year’s Day 2016, I’m a happier person than I was a year ago. I’m a more confident person. Every now and then this year I may even agree to be photographed, but if it steals my soul, well, I can’t be held responsible for my actions at that point. I’m already full of so much snark  that if I suddenly end up soulless, who knows what might happen.