I would be out and about, having a wonderful time with friends and feeling perfectly pretty. And then later, increasingly not too much later as everyone got smartphones and social media on their smartphones (this happened towards the end of college, for me), there would be a photo or several from the night: maybe us dancing, arms flung in the air, or walking across the Brooklyn Bridge with the sun in our faces, or making pancakes in the humid almost summer in our house on West 114th Street. The photo would send a punch right to my gut. How had I felt so confident there, dancing or walking or mixing batter with ease and joy, when I looked so awful? The picture never aligned with the way I imagined myself.
It might be the way my arm squished against my side, seeming to ooze and become multiple arms in one. Or the way my belly rounded out stubbornly. I always found a way in which I looked entirely wrong. This might send me down a rabbit hole for days - or weeks - of worry and self-loathing. How had I been so delusional as to imagine I looked fine, even good? The picture seemed to laugh in my face. It felt cruel.
This picture phobia feels connected to my eating disorder. I celebrated nine years in recovery this November. But my photo related baggage has been very, very slow to let up.
A few years later, one of those pics popped up on my Facebook feed. Facebook informed me it was the seventh anniversary of the pancake breakfast. The day itself had been full of laughter and fun, before the photographic evidence sent me into a full-blown spiral. Seven years later, I was a little confused as to why. First, I looked like a baby! But second, I looked great: happy and glowy, wooden spoon in my hand dripping with pancake batter, eyes scrunched up mid-laugh. I had used this photo to pick apart my body, but absolutely nothing seemed wrong with my body at all. Very mysterious!
Slowly, slowly, I’ve felt better about pictures. A few years ago, I wrote a story about shopping for wedding dresses as a curvy girl in NYC. My editor emailed me - “the story is great, would you be up for a photo shoot in one of the wedding dresses?” I was half excited and half terrified. When she sent the photo - my first thought was the horror of my bulbous arm. My bulbous arm would be in a magazine! My second was, “that’s my arm!” A perfectly good arm. Not a model arm, but an arm that gives good hugs and cooks pancakes and writes books and texts my friends when I can’t sleep at night. My arm, and nobody else’s.
Last week, I took new author photos. It felt like time, first because my new book PLENTY: A MEMOIR OF FOOD AND FAMILY is coming out next year. Second because so much has changed in the world (wow!) and in my life since my author photos for FEAST several years ago. I finished my MFA. I got married. I took some life changing trips, from Kerala, India with my mom to the olive groves of Jaén, Spain. Tony and I bought a home in Brooklyn. I had a miscarriage. I became a dog mom. I had an amazing baby girl.
The lovely photographer (Michelle Chin, if you ever need some photos), had a Brooklyn route all planned out for us. We met at the Barclay’s Center and worked our way through Park Slope to Prospect Park. Michelle had certain doorways she loved, certain benches and brownstone-lined blocks. It was a cold day, so I’d throw off my coat, my hat and my mask in a little pile on the sidewalk. She had me stand with my legs spread wide, since she was so much shorter than me. I followed her instructions: I looked thoughtful (deep writer thoughts!), I looked serious, I smiled. A few days later, she sent over the photos.
I was worried, but I was also open to having a new experience. Pregnancy and birth and mom life has been surprisingly amazing for my self-image; I am genuinely grateful for everything my body has done.
There were a whole lot of pictures. Some I loved and others not so much. But they were all me, and they all felt like me. Smiling me. Deep author thoughts me. There was no first thought of “Ghaaaaa!!” Just acceptance. Maybe even some love. If that’s not recovery, I don’t know what is.
What I’ve been writing: I’m working away over here on a few stories and essays that will come out soon!
What I’ve been reading: On a sleepless, jet-lagged night (we made it to England!) I read all of Leigh Stein’s Self Care, a satire of “self care” and the wellness industry and online life in the 2010s. It was a fun read, and the perfect thing to devoir without much sleep.
I loved The Searcher so much, I’ve started another Tana French novel, The Trespasser, and I already can’t put it down. It’s about the mysterious death of a young woman found in her own home.