Perhaps I’m a narcissist. Perhaps I’m just an available subject. Perhaps it’s a little of both. Recently, I decided that it was time to do a series of self-portraits. I’m calling this “Pieces of Me”. Some are clear. Some are abstract. But they’re all me.
Body dysmorphia is a strange thing. When I look in the mirror, I don’t see any of this. When I’m done taking pictures, even when they’re unedited, I often turn my camera around and ask my boyfriend, “Is that really me?” or “Who is that cute girl?” Answers always include the words “Yes” and “You”. For that I can’t be more grateful. Slowly, I’m becoming more accepting, but it’s a very long road.
So call this what you will, but for me, it’s cathartic and therapeutic.