Fear of the Selfie

01. November 2017 Gina DeNicola 1
Fear of the Selfie

Some of you may not be aware of what I’ve been doing since the middle of September aside from not writing, so I’ll bring you up to speed.  I have been touring the US and parts of Canada with a kids theater show. It’s exhausting. It’s fun. It’s pushed me so far outside of my box that I often don’t even see the box.

This tour is different than anything I have ever done before, and I have gotten more comfortable than I’d like with certain things.  I no longer think twice about walking around in public in my pajamas and slippers.  Putting on what little make-up that I do wear often is an afterthought.  I now sleep better with the gentle rumble of the bus than complete silence. On a day off I can sleep for more hours than I’m awake and still be tired. I have gotten used to changing in front of anyone whether it is in a dressing room, the bus, or like yesterday, on a boat. When you travel with 23 other people, they almost become like brothers and sisters instead of coworkers…almost.

My plan for yesterday was not to put any makeup on, sit on the beach, and read the book I have been trying to get through for weeks; but if there is one thing that this tour has taught me is that things change in the blink of an eye. Instead, yesterday I found myself on a boat with five other people searching for dolphins, sea urchins, and walking on private islands looking for sand dollars and shells. The only thing that I planned for yesterday happened, that was no make-up, so imagine the feeling in the pit of my stomach when before I knew it someone was taking my picture.

Later that night my phone chimed with a text message, I looked at my phone, and there was that picture I was dreading. I opened the text and just stared at it, I have never had my picture that 100% reflected how I was feeling inside, but this picture did just that, and I was amazed.

Yesterday I was relaxed, I was doing something completely outside of my box, and I was happy.  That picture reflected all of those things.  It didn’t reflect the cold that I was coming down with, the tired I felt all the way to my bones and the homesickness that comes with being tired and sick. I just sat there and stared at that picture, and as our bus rolled out of Florida headed to the next city, I felt so content with my life. I didn’t look at that picture and see what I usually see when I look at pictures of myself.  I didn’t see an overweight, fifty-year-old woman, who is on the backside of her life. I saw a woman content with life, content with where she is physically, mentally, and it felt amazing.

I’ll be glad when this tour is over, and I can go back home and finish writing my book.  I’ll be glad to hug my chickens.  I’ll be glad to sleep in my own bed in my tiny apartment overlooking a city that has become home.  I’ll be glad to have coffee with friends that I miss so much. But for now, I give into that rumble of the bus engine and fall asleep.

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