Sunday, 16 September 2018

Self Confidence: Saying 'Fuck It' to Photos


Long before I even started blogging (if you can even call me a blogger anymore), I had problems with being in front of a camera. I'd shy away from family photos, standing at the back with an awkward smile, and I'd jump at the chance to be behind the camera. As a result, I'm left with very little evidence that I even existed between the ages of 13 and 17. 



Around the age of 18, I found myself in front of the camera quite often, ranging from drunken photos of nights out to photos of me and Dave in the very beginning of our relationship. In spite of this, I still hated every moment. Either the photos were painstaking angled to hide my chin (come through MySpace angles), or they were taken by other people and completely out of my control, with only the ability to untag myself on Facebook to save seeing comments from other people, or staring at my face until I hated every feature.



I've written before about my struggle with my body image and I'm very open about my struggles with bulimia, so as you can imagine sometimes it feels like I'm on a seemingly constant roller coaster of self-worth. This isn't a regurgitation of those posts though. This is about how that roller coaster is currently on the climb.



Maybe it's since I've turned 27, but I've genuinely started to give less of a fuck about what people think and I'm focusing on myself. I don't mean being selfish. I'm just more careful of how I spend my time and energy. I'm spending my time raising money for charity, I run workshops for the local blogging community, I'm keeping on top of my housework, and I'm taking better care of my body. It takes a bit of work sometimes, but I try to remember that this is how I measure my self-worth. Not through how cute I look in a photo. My boyfriend has helped my naked ass out of bed to go for a wee when I couldn't get out of bed after surgery. My friends have seen that double chin in all its glory, laughing at some stupid memes in the pub. My work colleagues have seen me with my hair pulled back into the most unflattering ponytail and sweating my ass off as I unload deliveries. My family has seen me shovelling Christmas Dinner into my mouth, barely taking a moment to breathe.

And they all still like me.



Whether I like it or not, people know what I look like, regardless of whether it's a flattering angle or not. They've seen my visible belly outline, and they still want to go to Popworld with me. For the longest time, I had in my head that if people knew I was fat they wouldn't want to be friends with me, so I tried to avoid all evidence. Even though it took so long to get through, I think it's finally started to click that literally no one gives a fuck, and if they do, fuck them.

And that's how I reached 'fuck it'. I wasn't going to be left with no memories because I was worried about how I was portrayed. I wasn't going to have no evidence of the times I've been on holiday with Dave because I thought my boob sweat was showing. I wasn't going to grow old and not be able to show my grandchildren photos from that time I fell face first in Pink because I'm scared of the way I looked. I probably should be a little ashamed of that last one to be honest, but fuck it!

Samantha Nicole standing in front of a graffiti wall



(All of these photos were taken by the wonderful Emilie of EmilieShoots.com. If you ever get a chance to book in with her, she's so wonderful! I highly recommend her!)

2 comments :

  1. YASSSS!! Love it! It was lovely working with you, we'll have to do it again soon <3 :)

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