Two self portraits of the naked me taken thirty years apart, the second photo taken yesterday, 8 November 2016. Just as in 1986, the new image was taken just for me; why the first was taken was probably for different reasons to the second but still I cannot easily explain why either might be here.
It might be easier to address how this juxtaposition makes me feel. Unfortunately it tends to validate my feelings 30 years ago that my body was quite different then, because the image on the right seems somehow more normal. However, I know now what I didn’t then, that I should have embraced the difference in my body, that there are people out there who are attracted to boyish skinny men, that not all of them are gay, and that being in possession of such a body did not make me gay, but it certainly made me confused!
At 144 pounds or thereabouts, both bodies are the same weight, a weight I have been, plus or minus 3 lbs, all my adult life. On the left the weight is muscle weight, not a lot of muscle but very little fat. On the right is a body with rather more fat, still skinny by most standards but probably less actual muscle than that on the left. The broader body behind the arms and all around the waist is where most of that fat lies.
The one on the left might well have been the first nude self portrait photo I took, I can’t be sure. It’s awkward and I don’t like it as an image on its own but perhaps doing this gives it new meaning as an artistic statement. It’s interesting how it clarifies that it’s the shoulders up that bears the brunt of the aging experience, in my case anyway. I even suspect that many, if they knew nothing about these two images and cut off the faces, might express a preference for the body on the right.
The bed sheet is the same; the watch is the same, but no longer works; I’m glad I got rid of that mustache but would certainly like to have more hair on my head.