I'm Too Old for iPhoto and Too Fat for Dressing Rooms

I'm feeling defeated.  Not by depression or anxiety or any of the usual culprits.  I'm feeling defeated by seemingly simple technology.  I've wanted to add photos to my posts ever since the beginning, but I felt too overwhelmed by the features on my new iPhone X to even get started.  When I was selling a lot of clothes on Ebay, my husband took all the photos on a DSLR camera we got secondhand.  I'd sit at the laptop, telling him when a color or angle needed to be adjusted, and he'd do whatever was necessary to make it happen.  At some point more recently, I watched a YouTube video on how to make YouTube videos (I know, it gets kind of meta here), and even took notes.  I thought I understood things like F-stop and exposure.  But these lessons were just about immediately forgotten.  I watched another video on how to use the camera app on an iPhone X.  I went through all the different features, taking panoramic shots and making things sepia-toned, but once again, I immediately forgot everything I'd done.  I've had longtime aspirations to make YouTube videos about capsule wardrobes or minimalism, but again, I find the technical side of things completely overwhelming.  And seeing "the kids" these days casually editing their instagram photos really doesn't make me feel any better about it.  I try to keep in mind that kids from this generation have been doing these tricks on their phones, editing videos and putting panda ears on people, ever since they could text with two thumbs (another skill I'll apparently never master).  Social media has never interested me since I prefer a more hermit-like existence and getting updates on other people's lives just makes me feel bad.  But this photo and video stuff that seems to need no explanation for much of the population is really difficult for me.  I dream of being one of those Youtuber/bloggers who edit videos in their pajamas while drinking green smoothies.  I've got the pajamas and the smoothies down; it's the technology that's holding me back.  I mean, when I was growing up we didn't have cellphones.  We didn't even have a mouse when typing on a computer.  Printers had paper with holes running down the edges, and I was in my twenties and still using dial-up for the internet (if you don't know what that is, it results in your computer loading websites at a glacial pace, and god-forbid there's a photo to load).  So I've decided to cut myself some slack in this department and get help.  My husband has graciously agreed to teach me what I need to know in order to at least post some photos of clothing items on my blog.  We did a photo shoot where he took the pictures of my capsule wardrobe and he edited them, but now I'm learning to actually photograph and edit things on my own.  Patience is key, for both of us.  Breaking things down into tiny steps is also key.  After just the first lesson, I was reduced to tears, feeling incredibly stupid and old.  There were some aborted attempts at taking video a couple of months ago, but I was reduced to tears, not only feeling stupid, but feeling fat and hideous.  Seeing myself, my actual physical size and features, not as a passing glance in a mirror, but from all angles and in motion, horrified me.  That was at my heaviest, so somewhere around 224 lbs, but I just had no room in my head for what that actually looked like on my body.  A certain amount of denial when it comes to my appearance was, I think, necessary to keep from panicking every time I passed a mirror.  But the shock of the video image was too real to deny.  The only other time I've felt this shock and horror was in the dressing room at Marshall's.  I was buying a pair of skinny jeans (size 18W) and a dark green sweater (size 3X) when the reality of my physical situation came into view.  There's something about those tiny dressing rooms, the mirrors that are a little too close.  Something about bringing more than one size in with you and then immediately realizing the bigger one is the only possible option.  I know many women struggle with body dysmorphia, thinking they are bigger than they are.  But I seem to have the opposite, as some form of self-preservation.  That's why it seems to me like I haven't lost a pound, despite the 20 lb deficit.  I thought I was already there.  Already here.  But progress with anything is slow, and the big picture, so to speak, doesn't come into focus for a while.  So I'll keep plodding forward with my iPhoto and my weight loss, trying to keep my chin up.