Those who have been here before will know I have an inbuilt resistance towards posting pictures of myself. Anywhere. It’s not because I think I’m ugly, misshapen or unattractive. I think it’s just because I’m the opposite of an exhibitionist, whatever that might be. I’m not an inhibitionist, I don’t think I have hang up or are inhibited as such. I’m uncomfortable posting my picture and, yes I like my words to stand for themselves (yay! Venusian reference!) without my physical attributes accredited to my sentiment. It’s about judgement isn’t it? Yes, to a degree.
What would you say to a 90 year old discussing her vagina? Or a 17 year old musing that she has had a fair amount of experience sexually. It’s a bit weird to say the least? Without a picture in your head to attribute my thoughts to, you can choose your own picture to place me in, is this not better? I’m sure any image you find pleasing is far better then the reality.
I greatly resist looking at those glossy covers on novels, turn them over an there’s often a picture of the author. Their picture takes something away from their writing, I’m not sure how but I can see them creating the fiction, their brow furrowed in thought as the images flow. Somehow that lessens my visualisation of their work.
If I want you to read what I’m saying from the standpoint of just reading my words and the images they bring forth in your imagination, does knowing what I look like alter your perception? Or is the desire to picture me heightened by the experience of reading what I write?
This comes down to my inner desire to be seen for the thoughts beyond the flesh, a thinking, sexual woman, no other tags need apply. Age, skin colour, the look in my eye, the twist of my mouth, it’s immaterial to what I’m trying to convey. I think I feel the need to be a sentient being, seen through my words rather than posting pictures of my intimate parts is due to not wanting to distract from who I am. In this place, I’m not trappede by my body, my mind soars. It’s a personal thing.
I know other bloggers with an exhibitionist streak post words and pictures to incredible effect, stirring readers beyond anything I could ever achieve. I’m even a little jealous of the gratification they reap from this. It must feel incredible. Like with so many things though, I have to admit to myself, this is not for me. I’ve pushed my boundaries on this in the past, here on this blog and I can’t say I’m happy, even with these tame images being present.
I did scan through tumblr thinking about putting a picture on this post as I so often do… It seemed wrong given the subject matter.