My oldest friend's girlfriend put up a picture of me from the opening of said friend's first solo show, last weekend. It's a grainy iPhone picture of me talking to another friend, shot from slightly below and at a three-quarters angle, which is a nice one on my face, but I suspect makes my ass look a little larger than it would look in real life. My hair looks like hell. The angle and/or the flattening effect of the low-res photo and/or the pattern on my sweater conspire to lop off my rack, but the lumpiness in my midsection (I was wearing a belt, because that sweater is slightly too big) comes through loud & clear. One arm hangs at my side, held slightly away from it by the implied bulk of my arm. The other hand is on my hip; my upper arm looks enormous (completely accurate). But: you can see my jawline. It's a faint shadow, but it's there: I have a neck and not a double chin. My head doesn't look like a sphere mounted on my shoulders. My features occupy a greater proportion of my face than my cheeks do.
Obviously the most important thing is that I am out supporting my girl and her art, and I'm having a good chat and a good time, but it's wicked tough to see a picture of myself, particularly a totally candid one I didn't know was being taken, and not up-and-down myself, scanning for what's okay and what's not.
Bottom line, I do not love it, but I can live with it. Which like in general is pretty much where I'm at with my body these days, I think. At this size, my body is less obtrusive in my mental life than it is when I'm 50 pounds heavier. Not altogether unobtrusive, but definitely less obtrusive. And at this size, too, I sort of feel within striking distance, which is to say, if I lost another 50 pounds, I would have a pretty different situation on my hands. Somehow that altered proximity is kind of consoling—I'm not sure why, given that I have never been stably below my current weight as an adult, ever. But the point is this: I don't love that picture of me, but I don't think it's going to haunt me all day.