Shivering, I crouched down to capture a photo of a pine cone, nestled in the grass at my feet. I wish I could capture for you the aroma that rushed up to meet me as I bent down, a mixture of wet earth and the sweet scent of decaying leaves. Until technology has been invented that allows for the capture and transportation of scent, however, I will have to make do with what I have. Pictures and words.
When I looked at the pictures I took for this week’s blog post, and I couldn’t help but feel a cold twinge of disappointment deep in my gut. Where were the glossy images—sharp, crisp, and ready for a magazine spread—that I had imagined while posing alone in front of my tripod? Where was the model body, or the movie star face I had conjured up in my mind? The images were imperfect, my poses awkward, and the overall effect a bit frumpier than the chicness to which I had aspired. Looking at the images, I found myself suddenly wishing that I was taller, thinner, more willowy and more statuesque. I found myself looking at my white legs and wishing they were tan like the rest of me, a little less cadaverous and a little more bronze; a little less stumpy and a little more lithe. Then I reminded myself that that was not the point. Or was it?
The truth is, it’s possible that is exactly the point. The feelings my photography stirred up in me remind me why I wanted to start this blog. Somehow, in posting images of myself online, I had automatically began making comparisons—between myself and other bloggers, and even with movie stars and models whose images I see everywhere in mainstream media.
We as women need to remember that comparisons are never healthy. Each of us is enough just the way we are, and the only comparisons we should make is to the person we were yesterday. Imperfection is beauty in its own way. The fact that the pictures I took weren’t of the quality to which I aspired should bring me hope and excitement for the future. I can learn how to put outfits together better, become less awkward in front of the camera, write more stirring prose, and improve my photography. The capacity for improvement and growth is in itself beautiful. The fact that looking at my pictures draws up insecurities from within me should bring me to realize that I am beautiful simply because I am human and I am alive. My white legs that never tan and my double chin that crops up when I smile aren’t disfigurements. They are a reminder of my own imperfections, my own quirks, my own individuality.
Part of what I want to do in this blog is begin to work through some of the issues facing women today—issues like body confidence, self esteem, and self worth. It is such a complicated subject, one that I can’t cover in one post, or even in a series of posts. This is a topic that will be addressed throughout the entire life of this blog, what I’ve discussed here in this post is only the tip of the iceberg. I need your help. If you have any ideas for post topics or a series please let me know. Feedback is also greatly appreciated. Please share your thoughts and experiences on the subject. I want to get a conversation going. Let’s figure this out together!
This week I want to challenge each of you to take a look at yourself—a good long look—and remind yourself of a physical imperfection that is beautiful. And then remind yourself of something else that gives you value—something that has nothing to do with your looks. Because really, your value is so much more.
Get the Look
This week I chose to wear my favorite grey skirt paired with a grey t-shirt and my favorite caramel cardigan. I belted my waist to put emphasis there, since the cardigan is a bit oversized and tends to drown out my figure. I also wore a pair of brown leather, lace-up paddock boots and some dark grey socks.
Get same boots here –I found the same boots that I have on Amazon. They are a bit pricey, however. I got mine at a used tack shop for $20, so I’d suggest shopping around a bit.