self image

If anything, I’d love to see my reflection, just up on the ceiling like in those Vegas love motels — it might even turn me on.

You say I’m a classic belle. You have no idea how badly I wanted to hear that. An affirmation that I am not the mess I perceive myself to be

Without my glasses or contact lenses, people seem like featureless silhouettes and I feel robbed of a crucial sense required to navigate the world.

If you have been keeping up with my column until now, you have probably realized that I don’t have very much sex (which is, to say the least, ironic considering I write this column).

What you have is beautiful, and it’s what you’ve got, so own it. It's time to start investing it in yourself.

The relationship between me and my image has less to do with a want of beauty — although I would be lying if I said this wasn’t a factor — and more to do with a want of context.