The middle-aged selfie…a photo essay.

Otherwise known as how to be the center of my own lazy-eyed, big-nosed, double-chinned universe. 

John Singer Sargent, a renowned portrait artist who died in 1925, famously said that every time he painted a portrait he lost a friend.

Maybe that’s why self-portraits are so popular.

But if having total control over our own image is supposed to ensure a more flattering outcome to our photos, Facebook offers plenty of evidence to the contrary.

Unless, that is, standing in front of the bathroom mirror, camera in one hand, the other hand pulling the waistband of your shorts down just shy of your happy trail to show off your new tattoo of the Ten Commandments is considered flattering.  Although I’m sure the reverent attention to detail in your new tat is appreciated by both tattoo aficionados and religious scholars alike.

But I digress.

Despite the proliferance of questionable wardrobe and venue choices for the self-portraits flooding social media, I guess it’s time to jump on the bandwagon, lest I get left behind.  You know, in a non-Lahaye and Jenkins rapture-type manner.  Should that scenario arise – please – feel free to leave me.

And even Madonna is Instagramming sweaty cleavage selfies now…so there’s that. http://www.eonline.com/news/387088/cheers-madonna-joins-instagram-flashes-cleavage-and-sips-martini-in-first-pics

So being photo-averse myself, I looked up some tips online, decided to ignore the majority of them, and dove headfirst (ha!) into the world of selfies.

First, I thought looking down into the camera would be easiest, but let me just say-

DO. NOT. DO. THIS.

EVER.

Gravity is not a friend to the middle-aged woman.

Should Newton have viewed this pic, he would never have needed to get bonked on the head with that apple to formulate his universal laws of gravitation:

So ANGLES are critical in achieving selfie success.

But my arms are short and I have a big nose – so the distance from the camera lens to its natural focal point is problematic when I raise the camera higher than eye level…plus I have to squint to see if the camera is focused.

Which results in this:

So I gave up on the head shots and tried laying on the floor – another popular pose for selfies.

Plus I figured when laying on the floor, I could make gravity my bitch.

Which worked…sort of.

So while my wrinkles magically disappeared, and I only have one chin, I also have an odd corpse-like appearance and an obvious lazy-eye – both unfortunate.

And then there was the dog, who takes any human laying on the floor as an invitation to play, which resulted in this:

And this:

So I gave up on the floor selfie and moved to the couch to get the “money shot” as I have heard it so eloquently referred.

The “money shot” being the ubiquitous selfie designed to make your breasts look like bread dough rising in a teacup, and your waist and legs look disproportionately thin and long – most often taken in a bikini (if lucky) or bra and panties (mortifying).

This shot requires the individual to have either an over-abundance of confidence, or a complete lack of self-esteem.

Since I am a card-carrying member of the Burka on the Beach club, and there is NO.WAY.IN.HELL. I  would pose in my  underwear – I tried it with all my clothes on.  *insert collective sigh of relief here*

Getting such a shot is NOT easy.  I finally had to lay with my head hanging off the seat cushion of the couch and my legs over the back to fit my whole body in the frame.

And while I was doing all that twisting around, I accidentally slid headfirst off the couch and onto the floor – causing the dog to bring her ball over and investigate.

Which resulted in this:

Sexy.

And then I gave up.

Blogging is proof enough of my own narcissistic tendencies.

I leave the photo evidence to those for whom gravity is not yet a four-letter word.

Peace out.