Un-tagging.

My friends have been posting pictures a lot on Facebook lately. Some of the trip to Pittsburgh the other weekend, some of the trip to Virginia last weekend.

I absolutely hate how I look in all but one of those pictures. I’ve spent a lot of time un-tagging myself in the last two days.

I avoid pictures like the plague. My friend Jenn wrote a great post about this recently, and I echo her sentiments completely. If I have to be in a picture, I prefer for it to be from the waist up.  I have to hold my head a certain way. And I HATE candid photos – I look terrible in every single one.

I look at pictures of myself and I almost feel like the person in them is someone else. I feel like it doesn’t really look like me. I mean, I look at myself every day in the mirror. I know what I look like. I know every scar, every flaw. And when I see the person looking back at me, I feel like I barely recognize her. There is a disconnect there. I don’t know if its just a lifetime of denial, but I feel like I look better than that in “real life.” Yes, I’m overweight. But sometimes, there are days when I feel pretty.

The girl I see in these photos is not pretty.

It’s in those pictures that I can see how far I have to go to get to my goal. It’s in those photos that I can see that my thigh is almost the size of a smaller friend’s waist. How unflattering some of the clothes I wear are. How my hair, which I thought looked good, looks awful.

I want to keep those photos in the front of my mind so that every single time I don’t want to exercise or I want to pull through a drive-thru one of those photos flashes in front of me, and I remember what I’m trying to accomplish. I think I need that constant reminder. It’s too easy to forget or to make excuses. I need those pictures in front of me.

I would love nothing more than to get to the point where I don’t mind being in pictures. Where I don’t have to worry about a double-chin or a fat arm or a giant thigh. Because, right now, when I look at pictures of myself, that is all I see.

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