Everyone who knows me — and I mean, who TRULY knows me — would also know what a selfie-freak I am. Oh yes, I have that Kim Kardashian blood running through my veins. I have so mastered the the art of taking selfies that most of my photos look like they were taken by someone else. I’m that good! (Or maybe, I also just have long arms…)
I love making photo books, too. I have already made several photo books of our family trips and vacations… birthday parties — of my son and my nephews… just recently I made a photo book of my sister’s family’s vacation. The whole process of picking what pictures to put and decorating the album with various frames and art work, plus choosing the background color or theme of each page, all these somehow destress me. And it’s nice to look at the finished product.
It is always nice to look at pictures that capture special moments in time.
Sometime late last year, I was able to purchase a voucher for a 40-paged 6×6 photo book at such a low price. Believe me, the amount was insanely low that I couldn’t pass up the chance of getting one. Recently, though, I was notified that said voucher was expiring. Oh no!! I didn’t want it to go to waste… But I didn’t have any project in line, as well.
And then the bright idea… Since I have already made gazillion photo books for the family, I thought to myself, why not make one for, uhm, myself, this time? Besides, I had loads of selfies to choose from — saved in whatever gadget I have (two cellphones and an iPad, to be more precise… plus the desktop files…). This should be interesting.
So I gifted myself with a photo book of MY selfies. A 40-paged album filled with photos of no one but myself. Photos I took of myself at different places, different times of the day, from the past 5 or so years to the present. All solo shots. All me.
Me, myself and I. It was narcissism at the highest level.
I had a blast making it… Though I don’t know if I can say the same about the guy who had to print the album. My face probably haunted him in his dreams afterwards. 😉
I have always been vain. My childhood and high school friends can attest to that. I always make sure that I look my best every time, everywhere. My pocket mirror, hair brush and lipstick are — and will always be — my bestest friends. I can stare at myself in the mirror for half an hour and not get tired. I guess it just follows that for me, taking selfies is not just a skill, it’s a talent.
But truth be told, these narcissistic tendencies of mine don’t stem from having that feeling of being superior. It’s also not because I admire myself so much. On the contrary, most of the time, I have self esteem issues. I lack the confidence. There’s this fear of being not good enough and of being judged by other people.
When I was much younger, my belief was if I don’t look good, then there is nothing about me that people will like. People will think I am not good enough. My self-image was hinged on my looks. My self confidence was dependent on my physical appearance. Thus, I took pains in making sure that I always looked my best.
In time I realized that true beauty emanates from inside. Inner peace, love and joy can give one the natural glow that no make up brand, no matter how expensive, can match.
I still struggle, every now and then. Whenever I gain a few pounds… or I see a wrinkle here and there, or a line under my eyes… or I feel my cheeks starting to sag… I do feel bad. It still gets to me.
I am still vain. I still enjoy staring at myself in the mirror — and yes, taking selfies. Taking selfies is my way of capturing and preserving my moments. It is my way of celebrating myself.
Yet I have learned to accept that though I am not the best, I know that I am beautiful. I am beautiful because I am a child of God… His grace sustains me.
Besides, I also rest in the knowledge that people who truly love me will love and accept me, wrinkles and all.
We were all young once…
Two year old Me.
“I will praise You, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made;” – Psalms 139:14
photo credits : via google images; black & white pic of the cute little girl was from my mom.