I am notoriously gun shy when it comes to having photos of myself taken. I have lots of excuses why. Most of them go back to my childhood, stemming from the nickname bestowed upon me by my brothers and dad: "Moose". From overhearing my mother refer to me as an ugly duckling. From having an older brother I adored turn on me one day and tell me, "You are so ugly!" But, you know....I'm 56 years old and I've finally, in the past six years, become very comfortable with myself in my own skin. And when I glance in the mirror I've come to realize I'm not ugly. With age comes perspective, I suppose. You'd think 36 years of hearing my Dear Hubby and children telling me I'm beautiful would wipe out those old insecurities but it's amazing what we drag along from childhood, isn't it?
With all that said, I still don't like having my photo taken. I read this wonderful entry at my bloggy friend Mel's blog this morning and it really got me to thinking. It even inspired me to write about my lack of enthusiasm....well, actually my sense of dread...whenever a camera is pointed in my direction. The way my face freezes, my gut clenches, my teeth clamp so tightly my jaws ache. And it brought to mind a moment a few weeks back when my grandson Dylan found a used-up disposable camera and pointed it in my direction. He told me, "Grandma, I'm going to take lots and lots of pictures of you!" And when I asked him why he said, "So I can have them forever and ever!" As I said to Mel in the comment I left, there's someone in this world who loves me just the way I am!
I received an email this morning from a site who has accepted an article I wrote for publication. And in the email I was asked if I could send along a photo they can attach to the article. Yikes. If they only knew how few are in existence, ha! But I found one that I actually do love, the one I've included here. Yes, I'm still half-hidden but my arms are full of two of the little people I love most in this world. And I can see I'm not ugly. But try and tell the child within me that.