JUST WOKE UP... NO PHOTOSHOP.. YIKES.
I am more honest in this blog than I am in person. In person I feel obligated to shuffle around within the confines of 'normal'. I engage in breezy banter and aside from the odd lash out - mostly at family members - try not to rock the boat.
In this blog, for better or worse, I am me.. I post pictures of myself that are real. Usually taken by me, The Surge or if I'm lucky a girlfriend who knows how to aim in just the right way so's I don't look like a fatty. Oh Monica! You're not fat, just digging for compliments. Shut up. Of course I wouldn't post a photo that makes me look fat. I probably should if I want this blog to accurately reflect me. Just yank up my skirt and document the ass cheese that's slowly but surely winning the war on my softening muscles.
The thing I like about photography though, is the ability to capture someone's best side. I know urban gritty is all the rage, but when I take pics of me or those I know - I try to do two things.. Capture their personality in a frame and also catch their most flattering angle, their best side.
On this blog, I try to post some of the photos of me that reflect the real me and those that make me look better than I actually do. Some make my nose look big, others make me look fat.. But mostly I post the ones that don't make me cringe, those that manage to minimize my ass and others in which I have photoshopped away the zits until I actually think I look quite pretty. Yes, I know self-deprecation is my usual flavor, and it is part of the real me.. but we also know I wouldn't post photographs of myself if I thought I looked like shit...well, I suppose until today.
I decided to post today's photo because if I'm going to be honest in my writing, I ought to do the same with the photos. Thing is, in this blog I'm not painting a Monet of married life, all frilly flowers and lambent ponds, colors that caress the eye and please the brain. This here corner of The Internets is my Van Gogh self portrait. It's thick textured brushstrokes are clumpy and uneven. Tomato soup reds and violin browns bulge from the canvas in gobs..Gooey greens compete for sky space with depressed blues.. A chaotic, imperfect, creative endeavor.
If you step inside and leave your judgement at the door you can see it. The beauty. The pain. The painfully beautiful nature of a woman slowly coming to terms with herself and those around her.