When I was in high school forensics 50 years ago, my coach came up with a new fangled video machine to record practices and help us improve. I found being recorded then forced to watch my performance so demoralizing that I finally told him he could let me practice without the infernal contraption or I'd drop the damn class. He was NOT happy with me but finally agreed to turn the thing off during my personal practice. On the other end of the spectrum were the students who lived to watch themselves on tape, and who actually argued about whose turn it was to be recorded.
I'm not as hard on myself as I used to be: I'm old, this is the best it's going to get, and f***'em if they can't take a joke.
As a beauty I'm not a great star,
There are others more handsome by far.
—But my face—I don't mind it,
—Because I'm behind it—
It's the people in front that I jar.
I've been teaching Bing's AI my vision of the ideal male Belly Dancer. I think I've finally succeeded - if I looked half this good, I'd call myself beautiful!