I have taken – and been taken in – a lot of photos this holiday.
This is new for me.
I don’t have many images to remind me of the past 20 years, either because they were barren of experience, or because the thought of being photographed was obscene.
I pondered over writing this post, but I’m going to get it off my chest….
When the border control looked at my passport photo, he recoiled and did a double take.
I am not great with photographs. It has been two years since I last threw up, but my glands are still slightly swollen. In the real world, they are harder to notice; but in photos, they are the first thing that I see. In my passport photo, they are all that there is to see.
There is nothing I can do to change this.
And so, I have snapped my way around New York because I want to keep the images imprinted in my mind, even if it is still quite hard to look at the photos –
And because the longer I avoid seeing myself, the more I affirm the need for avoidance; and I want to start getting used to accepting me.