Yesterday I tried to draw myself, and it doesn’t look like me. I don’t think of myself as fat. Large, yes, but not morbidly obese…which I now am. The antique fountain pen jammed up just as I was nearing the end of the sketch. I was pleased that I could still draw in this new looser style, but I wasn’t happy because I couldn’t finish the sketch. Silly me. And here I had been worrying about drawing at all. I liked the one I did in the 1970’s all covered in Duck’s wool quilt and a printed bed spread. It doesn’t look like me, but it feels like me.
I have to look at the new doodle again. Maybe it feels like me too.