There is an almost oppressive sense of preciousness put around the notion of female beauty and I buy into it more than I’d like to admit. It’s hard to avoid, seeing as how it comes at me from all sides: cultures, traditions, Mom, Instagram feeds (check out #femalebeauty to see what I mean). Plus, I’m vain and Korean, which is a potent combo for some over-the-top beauty regimens (a starter sample to that madness is this W Magazine piece: “Eastern Promises: The Latest in Korean Beauty Products”, April 29, 2014). Every so often, I need the catharsis, not to mention the feeling of rebellion and badassery, that comes from double-flipping the bird on the whole thing. Am I the only one? Can I get an amen up in here? Last September, when I was starting to get into the thick of things with my disc herniation, a girlfriend and I began texting ugly selfies to one another. Even those not privy to these particular photos know I’ve long had a penchant for taking ugly pictures of myself. It started in elementary school as a way to combat awkwardness and get an easy laugh. It eventually morphed into a kind of mask in high school and college. As in, I was very insecure. As in, my strategy was to go on the offensive, turning myself into a joke before someone else got the chance to judge me. I’m pretty sure there was an episode of Full House about that. Anyway, the ugly selfies this time around were something different. They were a chance to vent about the suckiness of the spine-related ordeal as well as to laugh about it. (You’ll notice that a lot of the photos were taken while laying down.) I felt stuck during the last seven months — in bed, in pain, in life — and the photos were a way to say something about that without thinking about it too much. One can only do so much introspective soul-searching*, you know. I did a selfie series on Instagram before but that was about learning to be comfortable in my own skin. With these ugly selfies, taken between September 2013 to March 2014, I dug deep into depths I thought I’d never dare to go. I dove head-first into every insecurity I had about my physical appearance and it was liberating, cathartic. It was also no big whoop because it only took a simple click on my iPhone each time. Easy, breezy, Cover Girl. It’s a big whoop — well, it’s at least a whoop — to let others in on this venture instead of keeping it between my friend and I. And it’s feels like something I should do. Why else have a personal blog, right? Oh, my poor, poor mother.

I’ll post photos weekly from the stash until I go through them all or until I’m over it. Or, more importantly, until you’re over it. And now for some pretty ugly photos:

* Speaking of introspection, I have a few thoughts about this final leg of the herniated disc saga. I know I didn’t say much after revealing the MRI results a month ago. I’m still mulling things over as I continue to receive treatments. I graduated from weekly sessions to biweekly yesterday. I don’t feel ready to formulate my ponderings into words yet — the act itself seems so final and I guess I’m still watching to see how things pan out, how I build on all that has happened. Stay tuned. [Back]