Yeah…yeah, I’m guilty. I take multiple pics, and only show the world the ones I think I look the most vibrant in. I often delete the ones I deem less fitting for public consumption. Ha, doesn’t that sound completely ridiculous?! It almost seems like a cleverly disguised lie, but it’s the truth. I have perceived that the way my face or body looked in that moment wasn’t going to be seen as flattering to others – the ones that see me regularly and especially the ones who don’t. Those are the ones you really wanna look good for, right? Yet, I will march right out my front door, firm eye crust, ashy knees, barefoot and three day old disgruntled high puff and throw the southernly hand up to every neighbor and car going by that I see, on my way to check the mail. These people are equating their home value to the quality of the neighborhood, and its residents, but I’m worried about how I’m perceived on social media? How laughable is that? I recoil from the very platform because of the artificialness of it all. I hate that it brings that out in me. I hate partaking in it, knowing how much I despise it all. UGh!
The irony of it all, is that I love rocking a homeless chic, androgynous look. In my everyday waking life, I don’t care how much something looks on me as much as I care about how much I feel in it. I’m like that with my clothes and my hair. In fact, I usually wear make-up when I feel the most insecure or for special occasions when I think my everyday face isn’t fancy enough. The other 360 days/year, I may rock some lip paint and possibly a little highlighter. Usually, it’s just a mix of oils for my face to enhance my natural glow, and I’m done. If my face is looking unusually sculpted, it’s not weight loss, I’ve been slacking on waxing or tweezing my face, and my hair is adding dimensions. I’m low key in all the right ways. Yet, on social media… I become as fancy as I’ll ever be. In order to counteract the foolishness, I’m posting unflattering photos which I’ve posted their flattering counterparts.
The interesting thing about these photos is that some make my uneven eyes look even more uneven. I guess that’s still an insecurity of mine. One makes me look twice my size because of the Ankara style skirt matched with a bad angle, but another photo where I’m trying to show that very outfit, the entire skirt disappears as if I’m just a big pair of boobs. I suspect that’s an area of uncertainty of mine as well. She’s fat, but she has great boobs. Instead of, “I’m fat, with great boobs and…” narrative. Neither of those things are inherently bad to me, they’re just a small portion of me. (pun intended) But social media doesn’t give you much space to say that…unless it’s Youtube. Then, there’s the ones when the skin color is more gray than brown, or the hair isn’t as perfect as other natural hair days I’ve had, the smile isn’t consistent or it’s the same exact face I always make. The one of me with my port accessed is too real and vulnerable. Keep in mind, I posted the one where I looked super cute with a bunny on my Instagram though. But this one was worse, because for a month, they suspected the cancer was back. But no, that can’t be on social media. Too honest. Don’t even get me started on my RBF whenever I’m not smiling or smirking. See how shallow this all sounds?
Why I took each picture? 1) Re-did tub and tile in our new home. 2) Sitting on the throne of the last sweet 16 of the baby daughter of a family who took me under their wing in Orlando. 3) Another 4 months lived to the max. 4)Trying to capture the beauty of boho gypsy locs I installed myself. 5) Me sunbathing and enjoying only living 15 minutes from the beach. 6)Me hanging out with my twin sister and her fam. 7)I finally made it to the actual party part of their sweet 16 celebration. 8) I think I finally look like an adult during my office hours. I’m wearing serious hair. 9) I’m in Vegas, just went to my first literary award ceremony, this is my last night here and I’m taking it all in. All of these were taken between May-July 2018. What an amazing year, yet authentically sharing it seems near impossible. Yes, yes, I’m guilty of only showing the world pieces of me I deem are consumable in polite company.