hello: my name is awkward

Having my wonderful husband take pictures of my daily outfits for my Frocktober challenge has brought me to a startling discovery:
I am unfit to belong to the human race.

WOW. I am so awkward.

I had a 10 minute daydream about what in the world they would say to me, if I was in front of a camera for America's Next Top Model. It wouldn't be pretty, guys.

"What are you doing with your arms?"
"Why is your tongue sticking out?"
"Do you always do that with your hips?"
"Why do you walk like your left toe is broken?"
"What's happening with your eyebrows?"

At one point, Dustin had this great idea of having me walk naturally, so that he could take pictures of the natural flow of my garments.
Sounds poetic, right?

In looking at those photographs, it was as if every mirrory illusion I had about my poise and womanly nature was shattered.
What was happening? Why are my legs so far apart? Why is my arm way out there? What am I doing!?

"Oh my gawd, Dustin, why in the world have you never told me I walk like a Neanderthal? Whatever could have possibly persuaded you to marry me? Was it my man-voice, or my thunder thighs?"

I was at the bottom, ya'll. You ladies know what I mean. The point when you've stared at yourself too long in the mirror and you start to wonder why people don't tell you every day that you look like a middle-aged munchkin man.

But then, something magical begins to happen. Those beautiful souls that love you most in life, despite all those physical flaws they pretend to ignore, begin to compliment you.
They say nice things like, "Sweetie, the camera adds ten pounds."

After a while of friendly healing from confidants, we begin to mend.

And then we begin to say, "Oh, phew. Wow. You're right!"
And our little mind begins to compensate for all of those bad feelings.
Wow, the camera DOES add ten pounds. 
I'll bet that sneaky little mirror has been adding ten pounds, too. This whole time. 

And the cycle is reversed, and we become completely disillusioned once more about our appearance.

Overall, we're just a never ending danger to ourselves.

Normally, I would say that ignorance is bliss, but in this case I think I'll gravitate towards a healthy medium.
If I need to work out more (Caitlin, say it: you need to work out more) and eat better (Taco Bell is on my list of healthy restaurants) then I should be able to recognize it, and be alert to the status of my health.
I also should not allow myself to become so preoccupied with the way I look, that I become pompous or unrealistic or obnoxiously vain or unkind.

That being said, I need to go for a run. For a long, long run.

But first things first: how is a human supposed to walk!?
I've been taking baby steps all day so I don't look like a monster, stalking its prey.
Any advice would be great.

In love,
Cait