So Leah has been traveling quite a bit lately. She asked me yesterday if saw this photo Dooce ((*Dooce is what I call Heather Armstrong, I’m very nearly incapable of referring to her as anything different. Hey, there are people who call me “art” as in “artlung” so it’s not without precedent.)) when Leah visited her and if I liked it. I replied “yes, I think that photo was pretty good”:
Which, taking some time to look at it again, I still do. Perfectly good photo. But apparently, she’s not so sure. It’s unflattering, or she doesn’t like how her chin looks, or some other criticism that I can’t remember because of course I look at the photo with my eyes, not her eyes.
I look at it and I think: “yes, that is my wife who is lovely and also that shorter kickier haircut is really working for her.”
I’m pretty sure the propensity for women to look at photos of themselves and see only the negative is is the source of so, so, so many terrible songs by men telling women they, the women, don’t know they’re beautiful; but that they, the man, can see them for their true beautiful selves.
I’m not sure if there’s something that can be done about this aspect of women, or about men, or about the terrible, terrible songs, but if there is, please let me know.