God am I ugly.
I’m married, in my 50s, and don’t need to get through life on my looks – but man!
I had my picture taken for professional purposes and it is awful. I almost can’t bear to look at it.
Apparently – neither can others. It was going to be used as part of a group of photos representing a team I am on, but it appears that my assessment of the photo – and my visage – is objectively correct: I’ve been dropped from the group and my photo is missing.
I’m quite happy about this. I have never been photogenic. I’m lucky if a good picture gets taken. I tend to freeze up when a camera is pointed at me, and my ‘photo smile’ makes me look like a half-wit.
The pictures capture this perfectly. Artfully taken by a professional, they capture all the reasons why a camera should never be pointed at me.
Now – you can’t cure ugly, but the ugly is made worse by the fat. I’ve had some success at addressing the fat issue before – and this photo might be that tipping point that leads me away from the Land of Fun Starches back to the Land of Low Carb Reason – a place I know exists. I’ve been there before. I’ve lived there. It was OK. No – I didn’t eat White Castle hamburgers there, but I did eat, didn’t starve, lost weight and felt better.
And I didn’t look like Jabba the Hut on a bad hair day.