I feel sooooooo oooooooold

Why do you look so terrible when you reverse the lens on your iPhone to take a selfie?

Let me rephrase that: why do I look so terrible when I reverse the lens on my iPhone?

I tried to take a few selfies during my Secret Hotel stay and it was a very sobering experience – which is quite a feat after half a bottle of champagne.

Some poor sod asked in an on-line forum: “I look I’ve put on 100 pounds when I see myself in the front camera lens [oddly it’s actually called a “front” lens instead of a “reverse”] on my iPhone, yet when I see myself in a mirror I feel like I look fine. It’s so odd. And I’ve seen many other people comment about how it makes them look. Does anyone know why this is?”

They got cheery responses like: “You’re further back when taking a picture in front of the mirror, so your extra 100 lbs are less noticeable. When using the reverse lens you’re closer and more ugly is captured.”

But apparently the real reason is because “The original purpose of the front camera was for video calling where high resolution is not that important, hence the front camara is usualy 2 MP or less, with a lower quality sensor and image capabilities. If you really must take a self portrait, download a camara app with a timer, and use that high quality rear camara. Selfies usually are horrible when taken with the front camara, especially with duckface.”

With the raging popularity of selfies, I think this is a definite failing on the part of Apple. They need to come up with a front camera that makes you look BETTER in selfies not 100 times WORSE.

Sigh.

My struggle with my ageing appearance has been a recurring theme/whinge in HouseGoesHome.

I wrote a blog called The Ugly Truth around this time three years ago that confessed:

A grumpy old woman was in front of me in the bank queue last week. She was 70 in the shade and mad as hell. The beleaguered bank teller had to swivel his computer screen around at one point to prove he wasn’t lying. I was his next customer. I smiled sympathetically at him. He took my cheque and looked at his screen. His eyes went wide. “I was about to tell you how good you looked for your age,” he jovially announced, after realising he was still looking at the old lady’s account details. “You still look really good for your age,” he hastily added, closing the old lady’s details and opening mine. Cheers, mate. Thanks for mistaking me for someone born in the 1930s.

I renewed my driver’s licence yesterday. It was a similarly uplifting experience. My lord, I looked bad in my photo. The RTA should employ the photo elves from Santa’s Magic Cave. That way you could pay them extra to take your photo again and again and again until there’s one that’s not totally depressing. This system of taking a random photo – without even warning you … flash! – then handing over the awful finished product just isn’t working for me. I looked soooooo old. I looked sooooooo ugly. I looked like I belonged on the set of Prisoner, playing Bea on a really bad day. With rattier hair.

20-years-older

Mrs Woog also introduced me to a website that ages you, called http://www.in20yearstime.com. What a horrible concept! But I couldn’t resist trying it, being in a self-flagellating mood. Here are the results. (I like how they ask if you’re a drug addict before they make you over.)

I also got myself shared on iVillage for the first time in 2012 with a blog called Who are you in your 40s, which really should have been called “I hate being in my 40s” and included cheery passages like:

I thought you were supposed to become more comfortable in your own skin as you got older.

How can I be comfortable in this skin? It’s failed me. I have “age warts”. Age fricking warts. Fantastic. The bits that don’t have age warts are saggy or wrinkled.

AND I HATE IT.

It’s so bloody depressing.

I am not comfortable in my own skin AT ALL. I’d like some new skin instead.

Back when I was a high-up-the-food-chain mag hag I enjoyed a flirtation with free Botox. I touched on the results in a blog called Plastic Not-So-Fantastic. I’ve often pondered going the needle route again, but eventually decided in another cheery blog called Beyond Botox Renouncing Renovation that “my saggy face is past injectables.”

I know it’s supposed to be about people loving you for who you are and all that jazz, but geez it’s hard to look at yourself in the mirror sometimes and reconcile the way you LOOK with the way you FEEL.

And it’s particularly galling to be so facially decrepit yet covered in pimples at the same time. I mean, hello? What sort of cruel joke is that, God? (Another commenter on the reverse iphone forum added this Voltaire quote: “God is a comedian, playing to an audience that is too afraid to laugh.”)

I feel sooooo good at the moment. Better than I have in years. Why doesn’t my face reflect that … without the need for expensive (and extensive) plastic surgery and acne medication? It’s nooooooooot faaaaaaaaiiiiiirrrrr!

I hate being old. I want to be 36 again, not 46. Oh, except then I’d have just given birth to my first child and be in new baby hell. And 26 would be no good either – I was such a shy, uncertain thing back then.

That leaves me with going under the knife or making my peace with being loved for who I am.

I know which one I SHOULD choose …

Song of the day: Stevie Nicks & Lindsay Buckingham “Landslide” (so, so beautiful, I just keep pressing repeat)

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