I took a photo of myself today on my new witchcraft mobile to use as a profile pic for Instagram.
Trust me, I am not fishing for platitudes, but holy moley I looked like bloody shit no matter what angle I took the fucker from! Crow’s Feet? It was like Alfred Hitchcock’s ‘The Birds’ out there round the old eye regions (and I had make-up on).
I thought I looked pretty decent circa 2006 – I seemed to come into my own and embrace my mid to late 30’s. Now the façade has started to crumble and the plasterboard & MDF is beginning to show through. I might try some of that Nanoblur cream (or maybe just a pair of 10 denier tights over the lens of my camera)
Have I always looked like a man & just not been able to admit the truth to myself?
I’ve sadly lacked in the lovin’ department over the years, not exactly fighting the fellas off with a stick, & most of the decent offers I did get, I knocked back because I’m an asshole (who had, & still has, body inferiority issues).
My youngest even said last week while I was mooching for clothes in Chester and asked their opinion on a frock. “Mum, sorry but dresses and you… well they just don’t match”
Think my sister got the looks and I just got the mannish chin and the moles from the paternal side of the Fam.
I like to think that perhaps I appear better in the flesh, as it were, and just don’t take a pretty picture. Bman knows the truth. He’s been describing me to his work colleagues as ‘Benny Hill in a wig’ for years. To be fair, he’s still around, which speaks volumes, although I’m not sure of what?
I’ve used a picture of one of the childerbeast’s eyes instead & thrown a cloth over the bathroom mirror…