Self doubt creeps into the room in the middle of the night.
What did she mean when she said, he knows what you look like, right?
Am I so terrible looking?
And of course he knows what I look like.
Your self portraits aren’t you.
They’re me. More than anything else in the world, they’re me.
I don’t see you in them. He knows what you look like, right?
Surely the heavy-set girl can get the boy.
Surely the heavy-set girl deserves to get the boy.
Surely the heavy-set girl is a desireable partner and soulmate.
What did she mean? I look hideous. Why would I even consider this?
I don’t know. What’s the likelihood this is going to go anywhere, anyway? Now, how’s dinner for you on the 30th? It’s the only day I can do it. You can tell me about this photography… thing… hobby…