I hate the way I look on camera. I do. That’s why most of my pictures are shots of me hiding behind my lens. We record our show at the comedy club and after the patrons have cleared out, we all sit around and watch while having one last pint for the night. I always have this scowl on my face when I’m watching. I hate my teeth, my face looks funny, why can’t my hair stay still…

While groaning about it to a room full of men, who stare at me as though I was professing my love for the Lakers, (we’re East Coasters, mind you) a woman ran back in who had left her jacket. She had overheard me. She said,

She looked to be in her mid-thirties. Her business suit easily cost more than the down payment of my first car. This woman exuded success with her factual mannerisms. She barely made eye contact with me, then walked out. It was very New York- much like the rest of this city.

The funny thing is, my brain processed the words as,

I know that’s not what she meant, but that’s the where my mind went. Imagine how more screwed up I’d be if I read fashion magazine. Then I conveniently went home and poured through hours of photos I would never dream of posting due to my “imperfections.”

And then, just like when Angela Chase woke up one morning and was over Jordan Catalano, I too dropped the self loathing. Even if I do think I look like an oger- I’m Sarah The Oger and proud of it. Ogers rule.

Now to tackle that photo filter problem…