My ex-husband was bitching about me taking selfies before there really was a whole thing labeled “Selfies.”
I bought a really good advanced point-and-shoot because I had an Etsy shop and was selling photography and my old camera crapped out. I did not have (because I was not allowed to have) a phone that I could have used to take decent pictures of anything, let alone myself.
I got this Canon Powershot SX20IS with a nifty LCD screen that flipped around backwards and I could see myself.
I have been called ugly my entire life and I was thirty-five years old and did not have one good picture of myself. I had recently (in an effort to remain attractive to my ex-husband) cut my hair and (GASP) changed my lipstick color. Because the drug store was having a buy one, get one 50% off sale so I decided to be DARING and try “Teak Rose.”
The makeover and the subsequent selfies did not go over well with my ex-husband. I told him that I had felt ugly all my life and now I felt that I looked good and I wanted to have some good pictures of myself to look at and remember when I was an old lady.
My ex-husband managed somehow to turn that into “I want to share my beauty with the world so that everyone can admire me the way that I do.”
I’d never say that about myself. I mean, I’m embarrassed just typing the words.
A post on Facebook got me looking through those old selfies before I left him and Jesus God, I looked bad. I looked hopeless. I looked terrorized. These are probably the three worst pictures I ever took of myself.
Actually, my ex-husband took the picture of me in the blue shirt. At Easter. At a family gathering. AND NO ONE NOTICED.
I’m still taking selfies and I’m going to keep taking selfies and this is me now:
Domestic abuse. It shows even if there are no bruises. Leave now.