You know what’s weird?
It’s when other people tell you you look gorgeous in your photos — and they seem to genuinely mean it, too — but then you look at the digital imprints of yourself and almost by reflex, you cringe inside because all you see are your flaws staring right back at you.
Whoever blinks first loses.
And so for a hot minute or two, I contemplated on the things that I would “enhance” if I could. My nose. My boobs. Just those two, really, if you don’t count my fascination for washboard abs that I’m too lazy to do endless planks for even after buying an app that challenges you to level up in your plank game which you first need to show up for. Not just dabble in the endeavour when the mood hits you right, weather permitting.
Maybe that’s why it took me a fortnight to post these photos. Under the guise of everyday busy-ness was my nagging insecurity of sharing them with the world. Imprisoned by my own self-perception in comparison to all the other women who are way prettier, sexier, or better than me. As if it’s a fucking contest when, really, it’s a celebration of one’s own individuality.
So this is me through Janice’s lens. Perfectly imperfect in every pixel.