Sharing a little short
In 2021, I made a short five-minute documentary for my filmmaking course that I didn’t share with anyone. Well, anyone outside of the class. The assignment was to interview someone, and the teacher challenged us to take it beyond a typical conversation. So I interviewed a friend of mine about her anxiety, filming the session cramped up in my old office space. My peers and professor really liked it, especially the end, and I remember feeling really proud of the work I did.
But I couldn’t get past how I looked in the video. Because of the tight quarters, the camera had to be positioned in a certain way, shooting from an angle I considered extremely unflattering. I captured my disapproval in the first few seconds of the little short and even joked about it. Truthfully, I hated my appearance so much that I never planned to share the video anywhere.
I really miss the feeling of being young (like young young) when I didn’t think about looks at all. That time before my 20s, where I tried on what felt like a million personalities, trying to find one that fit; before my awkward teens, where I didn’t know how to apply makeup and never quite found a hairstyle I liked; before crushes, where I learned that people would attribute your value with your appearance.
No. Before all those times. The times I still dressed in matching clothes with my older sister that my mom picked out. The times that my dad made my Halloween costumes from scratch. Before looks seemed to matter.
I was 7 or 8 when my little bubble burst. I read in a book that some people were considered to be “pretty,” and some people were “not pretty.” I remember sitting down and looking in the mirror for a long time to try to figure out which one I was. I carefully examined my freckles, slightly crooked teeth, goofy grin, and dirty blonde hair, sunkissed from all the time I spent playing outside. I decided I liked how I looked.
But 25 years later, there I was, afraid of sharing something because of how I felt about my looks. What if a prospective romantic partner saw it and decided I wasn’t attractive enough? Would I be haunted by my own round face and pale skin? Should I be worried about the randos who made their way over from the accidental viral TikTok from last Christmas, resulting in more unsolicited comments about my appearance and celebrity comparisons?
Ultimately, could I post it and still love myself, even if I didn’t have the same tanned, skinny arms, flat stomach, and bright eyes from before the pandemic? Before the pandemic was the last time I remember being comfortable in my own skin.
But I’ve decided that I don’t want to be a prisoner to my insecurities, so I’m sharing my little short (linked below). And hopefully more creative stuff soon.
The little dandelions are finally peeking their way out of the cracks in the sidewalk.
