The Best Thing I Got From BlogHer

Here’s the thing: I don’t like pictures of myself.

A long time ago I heard that when a person sees a group photo, their eyes always go straight for the image of themselves, therefore revealing how self-centered people really are. While the looking-for-yourself thing may be true, I don’t know that it reveals that we’re self-centered. But there you have it. I have found that for myself, I avoid looking at photos of myself almost always. Once years ago during a visit to my brother’s newlywed apartment in Springville I saw that a photo including yours truly was on display. I started to shake and tears began to fall, that’s how upset I was at seeing it.

That’s how it’s been for years.

And you can draw your own conclusions as to what it has meant in the self-esteem arena.

A week or two before my trip to New York City I found myself at the mall. Shopping for myself requires a peptalk and a self-imposed time minimum, else I’ll run away without anything, so as I approached Banana Republic I took a deep breath and mumbled to myself, “Three minutes.” I stepped into the store and headed directly to the back of the store (clearance), when . . . “Aaaaaaaahh!” (that’s the sound of angels singing) The clouds parted and a beam of light shone on my dress. It was hanging there just for me, on the end of a sales rack of clothing Not My Size. I took it to the dressing room, confirmed that it’s the dress for me, bought it, and then ran away.

Friday night in NYC arrived, the BlogHer/Kirtsy Gala and art auction. Dress ironed, I put it on; looked good, felt great.


I walked around the Gala and then stepped outside to head to another party at another hotel. That is to say, I stepped outside at the PERFECT moment because it was then that I ran into my friend Jessica Bern. As she and I crossed the street together, she said, “You look really hot. Like, really hot.” I thanked her. And she kept bringing it up and complimenting the way I looked that night. One phrase she used a few times, and this is the phrase which stuck with me: “You are a voluptuous beauty.”

Voluptuous Beauty. I tossed those words over and over again in my mind. Out of pure habit, I should have filed away or disposed of such a compliment, but I couldn’t let this one go. Part of me really wanted to believe her. In fact, part of me was aching to believe her. Besides, as a general rule, one should always believe anything Jessica Bern says.

On Saturday evening, I decided to take a walk, solo, around a bit of the city. I sat in Rockefeller Plaza and watched people – eating, planning, snapping photos, laughing, shopping, planning Their Night In The City. I continued to stroll around, and I considered: Voluptuous Beauty. I realized I’d have to look at each word on its own. Voluptuous: what’s that supposed to mean? Heavy? Fat? Big-Boned (with Big Meat surrounding those Big Bones)? I couldn’t choose, and decided to postpone that one. Beauty: For the first time in a long time, I could accept this one. I had felt beauty when I wore that dress. I had felt beauty when Jessica said it. I decided to own that one. Back at my hotel room, I opened my laptop and looked for a definition of Voluptuous to fit me, and that’s when I found this: sensuously pleasing or delightful: voluptuous beauty. There it is.

I felt it, and I heard it. Still, as far as believing it . . . I needed more.

That night . . . well, you know what happened that night. It was the dancing. The being myself while dancing with friends, it was so freeing and awesome. While dancing on the stage near the DJ, my friend Justin Hackworth took some pictures of my friends and me. I remember thinking at the time, “I hope I get to see those photos, because tonight I feel like me, and I feel awesome, and I want to know what that looks like.”

The next day Justin published one of the photos on his blog, and guess what.

I saw it.

I looked at the photo without squirming or looking away. I saw myself. Amongst the people in the picture, I am by no means the most thin, the most put together, certainly not the best dressed, nor the most conventionally attractive. But I saw it.

Because of circumstances surrounding a dress, a friend’s compliments, and another friend’s photo – feeling, hearing, seeing - I finally, finally got it.



I am beautiful.