Why Can't That Be Me?

Sitting by my window, I sank into my chair as the sunlight warmed my cheeks. My team buzzed around me, rearranging my book, the light, my clothing. Always finding the best angle.

The photographer adjusted my hair, told me to smile. I’ve seen almost every episode of America’s Next Top Model, and still, being the subject of a photo shoot felt even more glamorous than I imagined.

When the camera faced me, I tried to throw off every insecurity, every doubt. ‘Fake it til you make it’ was my motto, and it felt good.

But while we were shooting, my mind drifted a thousand different directions. The skin on my upper arms is red due to a skin condition. Sometimes when I try to master a smize, I end up looking more asleep than content. I weighed more than I wanted to, and mid-shoot I remembered “the camera adds 10 pounds.”

At times it felt like I was raw and exposed before the world.

To counteract my doubts, I dropped my reserved demeanor and channeled my inner diva. The attention was on me, anyway, given that I had a camera crew and multiple outfit changes everywhere I went.

The word that kept running through my head was, “vibrant.” I felt shiny, beautiful.

On the surface, I was confident.

Since then, I’ve tried to pull that confidence down into my core.

The whole two days of shooting the photos for this blog, I laughed and joked and struggled to push my insecurities away. I focused on being in the moment. I made goofy faces.

I kept saying that this whole thing was silly, because I was the last person to behave this way. I identified as humble, quiet, kind. I knew I was often the ultimate people pleaser.

None of those things mesh well with a camera crew following you around, taking over restaurant patios while a photographer gushes over you. It felt indulgent, over the top, arrogant. It was fun, but felt like a life so far away from mine.

Telling one of my friends about the photo shoot later that day, I told her. “It was so fun, but especially since it just isn’t me!”

“But why can’t that be you?” she countered. Obviously wiser than me.

Her question hit me. In a crowded rooftop bar, the sound around me dimmed for a minute and I sank back into my thoughts.

“Well, I guess you’re right. That can be me…” I said. Inside, my mind was wandering farther than my words.

What part of that person did I want to be?

Were there pieces I could keep?

I decided to use this experience to revise the definition of myself. It may be difficult to root out my insecurities, but having exaggerated confidence in places full of people was one giant step.

For just those two days, my presence took up the air in every space I was in. I felt loud, but powerful. And you know what? The world around me adjusted.

Being forced to discard other people’s judgments made me realize that I was better off without them.

So, I ask myself again – why can’t that be me?

It can.

And I’m pretty sure, it already is.