Faces
Everyone seems to be posting pictures of their 20 year old selves, no doubt pandering to some new facial recognition nefariousness - but I recognise the urge to go 'look at me! I was a baby!
I saw my school-friend's student cards from those years, and I thought, yes, that's what you look like. That's you - in my head she will always be that fresh-faced, big-eyed innocent - not that she's really changed all that much, but she's 45 now.
Someone I've only met once shared a strip of ID photos a while back, from her early twenties- she's now fifty, and actually the person who inspired this blog, so she's feeling the wincey feeling of alienation from that dewy, youthful stretch out of childhood we have in our late teens and very early twenties. Still round-faced and smooth baby adults.
It's funny, the youthful 'look' is so universal - those strips of photos all capture the same essence of youth, no matter our face shape or hair colour, or whatever. The late-teen version of a babyface. And I didn't see it at the time, because I'd no sense of awareness of what it was to look anything else, despite being human and seeing older people every day.
It's a strange conundrum. I look at my face these days and feel it isn't representative of me in the way it used to be. Surely I should feel more familiar to myself after four decades than after two? There's a lot wrong with my face, now, though, and I suppose these flaws and distortions are what creates the distancing. This isn't what I look like. This isn't me. I did a Zoom chat with my colleagues/former colleagues last night and it was so hard to look at myself (and so hard not to) - I'd been out in the rain, hadn't washed my hair, had the laptop lower down than me, and the screen was whiting me out a bit - but god, the fat underchin, the hair issues... weirdly, my right eye is significantly smaller than the other side, and that really makes me not see me - or only see - an uglier version, though in fairness it's visible in this old photo. But so much sagging, drooping, wrinkling pastiness.
I'm guessing this photo is maybe twenty years old - I wasn't twenty but I wasn't much past it. And of course I was anxiety ridden enough about myself then, that's no surprise. The nature of the world we live in.
But it's strange to feel this way about other people too - for the recognition to be that their twenty year old image is more real, more representative. Maybe instead of growing into ourselves, we grow further and further away from the pure, essential baby we were. Really, I'd rather be positive about wisdom and experience and the beauty of the crone lalalalalala... I'm just not feeling it right now. Whatever about 'beauty' and so on, it's recognition versus alienation I'm thinking of. And failing to express very well. I got distracted by my photo. I think I'll go google face yoga videos and recommit to a more sugar free lifestyle. Or rather, think about recommitting to it.
**I *did* go do some face yoga, and now my face feels pleasantly tingly and my outlook a little brighter. Try it?
I saw my school-friend's student cards from those years, and I thought, yes, that's what you look like. That's you - in my head she will always be that fresh-faced, big-eyed innocent - not that she's really changed all that much, but she's 45 now.
Someone I've only met once shared a strip of ID photos a while back, from her early twenties- she's now fifty, and actually the person who inspired this blog, so she's feeling the wincey feeling of alienation from that dewy, youthful stretch out of childhood we have in our late teens and very early twenties. Still round-faced and smooth baby adults.
It's funny, the youthful 'look' is so universal - those strips of photos all capture the same essence of youth, no matter our face shape or hair colour, or whatever. The late-teen version of a babyface. And I didn't see it at the time, because I'd no sense of awareness of what it was to look anything else, despite being human and seeing older people every day.
It's a strange conundrum. I look at my face these days and feel it isn't representative of me in the way it used to be. Surely I should feel more familiar to myself after four decades than after two? There's a lot wrong with my face, now, though, and I suppose these flaws and distortions are what creates the distancing. This isn't what I look like. This isn't me. I did a Zoom chat with my colleagues/former colleagues last night and it was so hard to look at myself (and so hard not to) - I'd been out in the rain, hadn't washed my hair, had the laptop lower down than me, and the screen was whiting me out a bit - but god, the fat underchin, the hair issues... weirdly, my right eye is significantly smaller than the other side, and that really makes me not see me - or only see - an uglier version, though in fairness it's visible in this old photo. But so much sagging, drooping, wrinkling pastiness.
I'm guessing this photo is maybe twenty years old - I wasn't twenty but I wasn't much past it. And of course I was anxiety ridden enough about myself then, that's no surprise. The nature of the world we live in.
But it's strange to feel this way about other people too - for the recognition to be that their twenty year old image is more real, more representative. Maybe instead of growing into ourselves, we grow further and further away from the pure, essential baby we were. Really, I'd rather be positive about wisdom and experience and the beauty of the crone lalalalalala... I'm just not feeling it right now. Whatever about 'beauty' and so on, it's recognition versus alienation I'm thinking of. And failing to express very well. I got distracted by my photo. I think I'll go google face yoga videos and recommit to a more sugar free lifestyle. Or rather, think about recommitting to it.
**I *did* go do some face yoga, and now my face feels pleasantly tingly and my outlook a little brighter. Try it?
This whole thing about posting a senior picture of ourselves to "honor" the graduating seniors of 2020 seems the height of narcissism to me. I'm finding it ridiculous. And let me tell you something- when you're my age you will look back at pictures of yourself when you were forty-five and think, "Lord. I was so young." And finally then you will see how beautiful you are now.
ReplyDeleteHeh, yes, I know this is true - and I preach it to everyone else!
ReplyDeleteI'd also like it recognised that most of the photos of me from my twenties make me squirm with horror and feel not much better about myself than I do now. So there's also that.
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