on having my picture taken.

before beginning:

this is a continuation.

of a story.

about ned.

ned being my nasty,

little eating disorder.

more info here.

sarah, myself, carolyn, and amanda

i thought it was about weight.

my anxiety about having my picture taken.

i thought it was about the weight.

thought it was that the pictures reflected what i couldn't admit to myself.

that i was fat.

i thought that was it.

but it wasn't. not really.

we were out on saturday night. my friends and i.

i with my little camera nestled deep into the folds of my go-to-black-bag (which has finally reached the critical point of looking just-worn-in-enough {but i digress}).

yes, i with my little camera. i who knew it was there. i who wanted to take it out. but couldn't.

until amanda (my infinitely wise roommate) asked where it was and began to do what i could not.

and it was there, in the bar on saturday night, perched on my stool, with prosecco in hand, that i stared at that little camera screen and declared, oh, i look like an adult.

but that wasn't quite right. that wasn't exactly what i meant to say. what i meant to say was, oh, there i am. that's me. that's me, happy. huh.

illumination ensued.

i realized it was not the reflection of fat i feared.

it was that i couldn't find myself.

it was that i saw instead this girl who was so sad. this shell of someone i once knew.

but now, after all this time, i am beginning to see the picture in its entirety. and it is one of such happiness.

yes, yes, i still see the bits and pieces--of course--my disappearing eyes and brand-new-renegade-cheek-mole (an audacious little thing it is!). but i can see beyond those things. beyond what i like and do not like.

and suddenly there i am. an adult (or so it would seem). and a happy one at that.

go figure.