Someone once told me that no one is ever happy with their body the way it is now … but you should know that you’ll never be any younger than you are this very moment. When you’re older and looking at photos from your past you’re not going to say, “Oh my, look at those flabby arms/double chin/thunder thighs/big ass/crooked nose/gut.” You’re going to say, “Oh my, look how young I was!”
I’ve been trying to take this sentiment to heart this year and include myself in more photos. If you sift through the archives on this blog you’ll find virtually no photos of me. That’s because I have historically shied away from having my picture taken. I have always been much more at home behind the camera.
Through the years I’ve taken portraits of many friends and family members, and the shots I find so, so beautiful (their face is perfectly framed, the lighting makes them look amazing) they often take issue with. “Ugh, I don’t like the way I look in that one.” I’ve heard that a lot.
Are you guilty of not liking the way you look?
I am. I, like the previously mentioned friends and family, have always found fault with photos I’m in. I’ll point to the “lazy” eyelid or the double chin or the not-so-perfect teeth. But I then realized that there are entire periods of my life that have gone undocumented because I did not want my photo taken. What a travesty!
Needless to say this is bullshit.
I woke up one day and realized that I want to document my life. And guess what I’ve found out? Some of the best photos of me aren’t the ones I’d typically think are the most flattering. The best ones are the ones that create a memory. Like the one of H and I in Hawaii, getting ready to board a sunset cruise. We are doing our cheesy tourist pose with the “hang loose” sign. Sure, my calf looks chunkier than I’d like. The pattern on my dress is a little too busy. But that doesn’t take away from the glow radiating from my face. I’m happy. We just spent the day swimming in the Pacific, and H taught me how to swim the breaststroke. We were celebrating 10 years of marriage. If I had a critical eye I could spend all day finding things wrong with the way I look. But I choose to enjoy the memory we created with that snapshot. And it’s framed, proudly sitting in our living room.
In this spirit I’m sharing with you the sporadic photos I took of myself as a passenger in H’s car a few weeks ago. I’m wearing no makeup. I can’t remember when I plucked my eyebrows. My hair is in desperate need of a cut. My lips are chapped. My eyes are dark from lack of sleep.
But you know what? These photos are beautiful. I look so young.
