Photoshopped: Why Women Hate Pictures Of Themselves
And so we become more and more fearful, and we take more and more pictures, hoping that this next one will be the one that shows us who we really are and want to be — but validated through the objectivity of a lens.
I wonder if it’s an extension of not even knowing oneself, or what one wants to project into the world, however shallow. My teen years were compounded by having a fucked-up face, so I started taking pictures myself, documenting. I look painful in old photos, because I’m clearly posing.
Now, I get documented and have been for the past five years, thanks to Chase. And, even the most unflattering pictures I don’t hate. I couldn’t tell you if it’s because I just innately learned to hold myself, or if I stopped caring. I think it’s not caring. When you’re a person who is just existing—even if it’s only in situations with friends and family—you look more true to life in photos. You don’t think “God, I look awful.” The thought is “Jesus, what a fucking great time that was.”
I guess it’s like how I don’t understand exactly why we need to wash our cars. If you love it, doesn’t it age?
