Now that all the series of Biggest Loser have finished (on my TV at least) I’ve moved my alliance to Steve Austin’s Broken Skull Mountain (gotta have some trashy TV somewhere) and something new for me Glam Masters. For me, when my depression took hold I stopped doing so many of the things I used to love. I stopped with the heels and make up and so on. Some people hide behind a painted face. I hid behind my bare face. So I’m looking for new ideas of moving forward.
The Biggest Loser gave me some motivation for health and fitness and now I want to remember how to be the glam woman I once was. Watching this show one activity was around a selfie and it’s made me think.
I had a breakdown in 2010 (then again in 2015). None of my friends at that time had the new (real new!) i-phones or smart phones but we never had a night out where we didn’t take a digital camera. We took pictures of each other, we took pics in groups, of our shoes and boobs (random but that’s alcohol for you) and we took thousands of photo’s of ourselves and posted to social media. None were photo shopped; we didn’t have that programme on our laptops so what we were was what you got to see.
Looking back at some of them I am laughing, I am smiling and I don’t have a care in the world. Somewhere after the breakdown in 2010 I lost that. I started to hate my photograph to the point there are very few pictures of me taken over the last 8 years. I thought at one point I was beginning to have some sort of body dysmorphia and a psychological hatred of my face. However, up until 2008/9 (I forget exactly) I had a fair sized mole on my face. It’s clear on many photo’s.
So actually no body issues but rather fat face. Giving it some thought I was just fat and hated my face. It was bigger, extra chins and I definitely looked as old and tried as I felt with the depression. I posted some pictures of myself in yesterdays blog. I’m getting better at letting people online see me. Some of that is because having lost the 18lbs so far I can see my face coming back. The face I know and love. The chins are going; my cheekbones are coming back. So are the damn dimples but having not seen them in years I’m not hating them.
I’m less afraid of seeing myself in photos. I don’t like it but I’m not freaking out at the idea. There’s still a ways to go to return to my past days of having my photo taken without a care but I feel I’m getting closer and closer to that day.