Fat Girl, in Secret Agent mode, scans the terrain for hostiles. The buffet table is at 6 o’clock. Deserts staged at 4 o’clock. Nut bowl at 3.
Alert! Alert! Aunt Betty is circulating with a platter of pigs in blankets. Repeat! Pigs in blankets on the move!
Side stepping the incoming bogey, Fat Girls slides stealthily into the den. She’ll deal with the Weapons of Waistline Destruction (AKA Thanksgiving Dinner) later. A trickier and deadlier foe lies in wait ready to pounce and unleash the fury of hell itself in a quick snap and flash.
As cool and trained as she is, tension pulls Fat Girl wire tight. A bead of sweat forms at her temple. She knows the stakes. This ain’t her first rodeo. She’s failed in the past. The thought of getting tagged instantly and publicly sends a shiver down her spine. Fat Girl steadies herself with a piggie, and clicks on the HUD display in her sexy librarian glasses.
Red warning lights explode like Christmas lights. No, wait, with a peak over her glasses, those are just plain old Christmas lights. My bad. A scan of the room produces 2 iPhones, a Blackberry, a smart phone of undetermined make, an Olympus FE-280 8 megapixel 3X optical zoom. Eep. Small, quietly and deadly. But manageable given the target rich environment of couches and arm chairs to hide behind. Fat Girl’s eyes backtrack to the desk.
For the love of all that is good and fattening. It can’t be. Fat Girl pales, the blood draining past her knees that turned to jelly. Warning alarms explode in her head.
Mayday. Mayday. Code RED! Repeat Code RED! Implement anti-camcorder protocols STAT. Get out of there Secret Agent Fat Girl. Abort. ABORT! Get OUT! Dear God, save us!
The alarm shrieks in her head dull to a low rumble. She grits her teeth to quell the shakes. She reaches for a cocktail napkin to dab at the rivulet of sweat now running from her temple (after eating the 2 pigs in blankets of course as they were deployed upon the needed napkin. She’ll need her strength for the coming battle of course. There no time to count points now). Coolly, despite her heart thundering in her chest, Fat Girl assess her resources and tactical options.
Sports and politics are always handy diversions. You could always stir up Yankees vs. Mets drama in a NY household with out too much collateral damage. Popping another piggie, Fat Girl chews over the alternatives. She mulls the ultimate fail safe option – ‘Accidental’ Breakage. Could she go there? Would all her training fail her at the last moment? “Tactical success in the field is often the result of exploiting moments of chance and happenstance.” At the very moment Fat Girl resolves to break her uncle’s camcorder on purpose rather than face seeing images of herself plastered on Facebook, Aunt Betty glides into the room with a platter of cookies so tall the Colossus would turn green. Diving through this window of opportunity, Fat Girl springs into action by re arranging the desk to clear space for the cookies. The camcorder is now neutralized behind the poinsettia and the framed picture of Rufus the cat with Santa. Two celebratory cookies later and Fat Girl gears up for the Annual Battle of the Pies.
For 30 years, I’ve come up with super creative, Ninja-like ways to not be photographed.
“No no, it’s fine. You get in there. I’ll take the photo.”
“Here. Come stand in front of me. I’m taller.”
“I’m having a bad hair day, take the picture later!”
“What if I peeked around the corner of this wall and just my nose was peeping out. That would be so artistic!”
You’d think I was a spy, hoping to erase all photographic evidence of myself. Seeing myself in photographs pushes ever self conscious button I have. I’ve lost 6 dress sizes and I still want to throw up every time a camera is pointed towards me.
A few months ago I visited a friend up in Boston. He owns a photography studio (Shameless plug, if you need pictures, ImagineNext.com are the people to contact!) and he’s tried to convince me for years to get in front of his camera. I have always slipped out of that, never giving an out right no. You see, to me, the image of who I am and what I look like in my head is radically different from what I see in photographs. So when I’m confronted with what I see in a photograph, I’m shocked back into reality and go to “Not-Enough-Land” where I’m not thin enough, or pretty enough, my hair is not straight enough. It never occurs to me in that moment to call up an image of what IS enough. It never occurs to me that I’m comparing myself to completely fictional image that doesn’t exist and isn’t defined. All I know is that it’s not enough.
I got an email with the pictures in it and it took me a full 5 days to open it. All this work I’ve done on myself to get comfortable with who I am right now, in this moment, in this reality, splintered apart with a single mouse click. I downloaded the pictures and was instantly horrified by how fat I looked and walked away from my computer.
It took me 2 more days to really settle in and look at the pictures. And I do look fat in those pictures. Those pictures were taken 20 pounds ago. Those pictures are not what is so in this reality, in this moment in time, they are a wee slice of the oh so recent past. It both amuses me and saddens me that all I could see upon first glance were my chubby arms and my poofy tummy. I look great in these photos despite the 20 lbs and the chubby arms and the tummy poof. My crazy inner Fat Girl has to learn how to get a grip on what is the actualy state of affairs in this moment in time. And for now, I’m going to take a break from photography. Whew. Oh, yeah, here’s the pictures..
The Grass IS greener on the other side
I should have put the flowers in my hair