Underneath It All

Untouched raw photo by SanjayNPatel.com. FireMakeupArtistry by Jessi Pagel

...And then I got my hair and make up professionally done and had a really good photographer take pictures of me. Only the second time in my life THAT'S ever happened, the first being when I was eleven years old. I've had a whole 21 years since then to solidify and further complicate the relationship between who I actually am and who my self image thinks I am. I think for most of us there's a world of difference.

I wanted to write about the experience because it really seemed to have an impact on people seeing me like this, and I was somewhat overwhelmed by how many of you expressed a preference for me as I usually look—i.e. without make up, and I was really touched by it. I understand what you mean. Yes, I look really, really “sexy”—in one shot I think I look a lot like Julia Roberts, in another Natalie Portman, but only in the ones I didn't consider necessarily attractive did I look at all like Me.

We love people for their quirks, for the familiarity of the lines on their face, their smiles, the comfort and confidence we feel in who they are. Many of you didn't recognize me at all in this picture, including my own mother. Some face paint, lighting, a lens and some talent and we can be anyone we want to be—which I think can be really good for us, in moderation (like all good things in life).

I think it's important for us to play, to take on roles, to make ourselves the creative canvas sometimes. It reminds me that people only “see” what's on the outside, and guess what? If people see me like I am in this picture they're guaranteed to have a different impression of me than if they saw the “normal” me. That's neither good or bad; is just is. It's a tool, to be used for creativity, for strength, for fun, for growth, as long as it doesn't take you over, as long as you can come back down and remember who you are underneath it all.

A lot of us learned, through some means or another, that wanting and enjoying the spotlight makes us selfish or full of ourselves. I'm not sure what it will take for me to get over this one, but having a really amazing photo shoot done felt like a really healthy and positive step in the right direction. I mean, let's face it: I'm building a career that revolves around being, quite literally, in the spotlight, and the more I can learn to be comfortable and truly enjoy it the better an experience it will be for the people supporting me.

I'll admit, even looking totally not like myself I still felt wholly vulnerable in front of the camera.  I asked Sanjay to please not take any shots of my knees from the side, and looking over the photos find myself cringing at many a wrinkles, hairs, teeth and, yes, my knees. It's exhausting isn't it? The curse that each of us carries to scrutinize every tiny part of our incredibly magical and amazing bodies? There has to come a point of surrender, that I'm still working hard towards. I've learned enough to know that no one—like, NO one—is paying any attention to my knees, unless, of course, they hate theirs too. They'll be looking then, but unless they hate theirs in the very same way I hate mine, they aren't going to see what I see. No. One. Cares.  But me. What's the point?

I'm very familiar with the wide spectrum of feelings I have inhabiting this body, going about my business in the world with it, looking in the mirror at it. A lot of people think I'm really beautiful, and a good person, and I do my best to see myself that way, just as I want the beautiful people in my life to see themselves as I do. I catch glimpses here and there, and I'm grateful to all of you for that, yet there is no one in the world that sees us the way we each do on our darkest days. Perhaps we're not really as terrible as we think we are......? It's a noble idea.

I was relieved when I washed my face at the end of that day to find both that mine was still there—wrinkles, freckles and all—and that I was happy to see it. I know many of you were too.