You Do You

My first painted self-portrait, about 20 years ago. I was so proud of how I captured myself. The eyes are spot-on. The lips are exactly right. I even got my nose (at the time... it's been broken several times since) and I've always struggled with noses. I couldn't even make them look like noses, let alone the exact nose. And I nailed it. I carefully noted where the sections in my face place shadows, and did a damned fine job with my punky hair.

But my art class was horrified- did I really think I was that fat? I didn't even see it myself, I could only admit that I might have messed up and made myself a little pudgier due to trying to incorporate my unique bangs. However I truly painted myself fifty to a hundred pounds heavier. I weigh much more than I did then and I'm STILL not that fat. It is so telling that I obsessed about the details and yet completely skewed on one of my insecurities.

Painting  yourself is humiliating. It is uncomfortable. And you should do it. You have to swallow some truths and see how you feel about them- consciously and unconsciously. It also allows you an excuse to look at yourself- I've always had a problem looking at myself in the mirror. I was called "ugly" and "fat" my entire life (never mind that I was not fat until recently due to injuries; I was incredibly muscled and had giant breasts. But since women are not allowed to have muscle, everyone just called my muscles "fat"). If I had to look in the mirror and caught my eye, it was a look of shame and defeat. That's awfully difficult to face- literally. Yet I was so lonely that look in the mirror reflected my darkness back to me, as if I wasn't alone anymore. So when I was a young woman, looking in the mirror was, "I know. Me too" and sometimes it made me feel a tiny bit better. Because there was no one else.

I might paint myself again. But I don't know if I can face the darkness right now. It's worse than it has ever been.