Sharla Dawn Gorder

That’s what I look like.

And this is what I really look like—or more accurately, this is what I also look like: 

In fact, if you must know, this is more often what I look like.  My husband knows it.  My kids know it.  My dog knows it.  Sadly, my immediate neighbors know it.  And now, so do you.

These two pictures were taken less than twelve hours apart, and in the exact same location, within inches of each other in my bedroom there by the bookshelf.  I am the same age, weight, and general mental state (believe it or not) in both—although, in one of the two, I am, admittedly, more “myself.”  I’ll let you guess which one that might be.  Only one of these two photos is contrived.  I’ll let you guess which one that might be.

I was told by an editor, a publisher and a clerk at Winn Dixie, that I was gonna need a website or blog, to promote my book, and that I would have to post pictures of myself for all the world to see.  This sent me into a panic.  Which is stupid, I know.  All the world sees me every time I leave the house.  And still I leave the house with no second thoughts—and usually no makeup or hair gel.

Still, in full-on Sharlaridiculouslyoverreacting mode, I made a plan.  I’d schedule a photo shoot with Janna Rasch (photographer extraordinaire) for a month out.  Then I’d diet frantically, fake-tan my blotchy body, bleach all of the enamel off my teeth, and assemble a wardrobe of adorable ensembles befitting a first class writer/blogger/beach bunny.  I even let a local dentist stick needles laced with poison into my forehead.  And finally, on the day of the shoot, I bribed my amazing hairdresser, Todd, with a bottle of Perriere Jouet to come in on his Sunday off to do my do.

This was for the contrived photo. (Doesn’t my hair look great?)

For the other one, I stumbled out of bed, shrugged on my throw-mamma-from-the-train-bathrobe, went to pee, grabbed my coffee, pencil and clipboard from the nightstand, my beanie from the floor and staggered out onto the deck to ponder the sunrise.  Ted snapped the photo as I staggered back in.

I recently bought a book I saw on Amazon just for the title—I Look Like This Because I’m a Writer by P.J. Fox.  Ha!  But I’d look like this in the morning, I suspect, even if I were a foreign ambassador or prison warden.  Because, well, this is what I look like.  Just so ya know.  Especially all of you friends out in California who haven’t seen me in a while.  I look like this.

And I look like that.  I guess it was important for me to make sure you knew I could pull off both looks.  Though, in retrospect, it does seem like a whole helluva lot of effort to go through to deceive you, when really, I just want you to like me enough to read my posts.

Because, even after all that nonsensical preparation for the photo shoot that resulted in photo number one, when I got the proofs back from Janna, I was not happy.  I sent her a whiny little e-mail asking her if she could work some Photoshop magic on my upper arms and thighs.  And maybe whiten my choppers a little more.  And, oh, was there anything she could do about those trenches between my brows that still, despite multiple toxic injections, furrowed my forehead and made me look as old as I actually am.  Can’t have that.  Oh, no!

She sent me this:

And this is my very favorite photo of all.  I would’ve made it my profile picture if I hadn’t been a little worried it would scare away some of my more fundamental-ish friends on Facebook.  But I love this picture of me.

You see, I can suck a metaphor from just about anything. Even my own defaced face.  Especially my own defaced face.  That third eye is just what I need right now in my life and in my writing—a non-dualistic “seeing” of the world, of my integration into it.  In Shamanic teachings, seers use that third eye to understand hidden connections and forge new insights.  The third eye sees what the physical eyes may miss.   I need that eye, now more than ever.

More than botox.  More than diffusion filters and Photoshop.  More than cute shoes, even.  More than, but alas, not yet “instead of.”  I’m not yet that evolved.  I mean, I’ve only been wearing that extra eye for a few weeks now.  These things take time.

I saw a funny post in October.  It said:  For Halloween, I’m gonna go as the person I pretend to be on Facebook.  This made me laugh.  And cringe.  And write this post.

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Book due to be released Fall 2016