Selfie Dilemmas

We're off in January. Three months travelling from Myanmar to Cambodia. Twenty years ago I would have traipsed around Thailand quite happily in a Primani vest dress and flip flops but for some reason now the reality of living for three months out of a 40-litre pack seems much more of a wardrobe challenge. When did I become so high maintenance?
It all boils down to my social media anxieties. Everyone expects a photo and why, why, why can’t I take a good selfie? I suppose, unlike Millennials, my first 15 years were not been spent selfie posing endlessly with arm outstretched and lips pouted. I simply don't have this digital life skill and I never was photogenic. Why can't we all go back to the days when you sent your film reel to Boots and then kept your snaps secreted away in a dusty album or darkened drawer?
Reality is, I have six months to slim, tone and tighten. Turn corned beef legs smooth and deflate those spare tyres into a beach-worthy body. More beached whale than Baywatch; I fear that the locals will be trying to return me to the sea, pouring water over my blowhole.
In this selfie culture, I definitely will need a team around me. Wardrobe. Hair. Makeup. How will I cope? I’ve committed to living for three months out of a 40-litre pack and as a five-foot titch in a pair of shorts, I’m all ass and knees. So I’ve come up with a plan. Fight fire with fire. Tech with tech. I’ve created an Avatar. A bit of me, a bit of Baywatch. I can now snap happily away and then add me to my photos as I go. A cunning plan.
Here I am at the beach. What do you think? Okay - so the pic may need a fair bit more photoshopping... But nowhere near as much as my ass.