Pictures of me

The weather is fast chaning and my short-lived brush with winter is feeling too short for my liking. In the span of just one day we went from having the fan on super low to two notches higher at night. And I am beginning to sweat it out good and proper during my morning workouts again. When I returned from Goa, I was working out with a jacket on and with the doors and windows closed. Until  this morning, when I broke into a massive sweat, my body temp spiking, and stifling me. So I had to throw the balcony door open.

But until last week, the morning post-bath ritual of lying in the sun, even if just for 5 minutes before my first session for the day, was doing a fine job of keeping me warm.

On another note, VC took some splendid portrait shots of me recently. The past two weekends we’ve been experimenting with a makeshift homestudio of sorts to see what’s possible right here at home, without having to venture out.

I love them pictures so much, but must acknowledge that the veneer on those is only part of the truth. I’m rarely ever that put together. I love and enjoy being made up and dressed well. And I love a flattering photograph. Especially if VC takes it. But many, most, times I’m also the dork that lies in the spot of sun in my balcony till the sunshine has gone deep through my eyes and right into the soft centre of my fuzzy sunshine-addled brain, blinding me so I can’t see the picture I’m trying to take of myself.

Yes this is also me.

I realised today, that I’ve been posting a lot many picture of myself, of my face on my personal instagram recently. This is a huge change. And it felt nice to notice it. Oddly, in most of them, I am lying down/reclining. And that felt nice to notice too — that I have so many moments of lying down. Now that I have started to take notice, moments of softness almost always involve being horizontal. Such a small thing, and yet there’s always some discomfort, shyness, shame around doing it. Letting our bodies splay in an uncontrolled fashion feels too vulnerable, unfamiliar, unpretty. So, to have a newfound comfort and freedom to lie down whenever an opportunity presents itself or I am inclined to, is everything. To find comfort in sharing moments/memories, even more so.

Instagram is such a weird place. Pictures of one’s face, or a personal detail of one’s life, accompanied by an arbit, meaningless caption always gather so many more hungry, voyeuristic likes than an odd picture of a sunset, or a tree — of which I post PLENTY — captioned with some deep inner thoughts that I’ve felt like sharing.

Oh woe.

One year ago: Flow, flow, flow
Two years ago: In-between
Five years ago: Light and shadow

Pour your thoughts over mine

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