But, I mean, I used to show up in family photos. Seriously. Lots of them. I was in at least 1 in 4 family photos back in the day. These days, we're lucky if I'm in one once every three months. I look more like a frequent babysitter or aunt that lives two towns over than a daily presence thanks to our photo album.And it's not like I don't have the power to put myself in these shots. I just...don't.
I collapsed in bed two nights ago and thought about why it might be that my kids will have very little visual proof of my existence between the ages of 29 and, well, 35.
I turn 35 in a week and I'd say I look like I'm turning a solid 39 or 40. There's nothing WRONG with being or looking 40 when you are 40. But when your 34, it sucks.
I promised myself I'd lose the 20 pounds from three pregnancies in four years by my birthday. Do you know what I did? I gained an extra TEN just for good measure. In case I wasn't already solidly defeated in my self-esteem and motivation, I figured a few extra donuts and pizza slices would do the trick. Silly rabbit.
I foolishly figured as I'd age, I'd have to deal with looking old OR being fat. Imagine my surprise now that I'm facing 35 looking old AND fat. There's a word for that....it's called despondent. :)
This is the year of the gray hair (f$#& you, gray hair). The spider veins (f$#& you, spider veins). The cellulite (die, cellulite dimples). The exact same outfit or combination thereof for 365 straight days. The overgrown Kahlo-esque eyebrows. The stomach that resembles unrisen bread dough (lovely, right?)The shaggy, split end hair. The ponytail that can last four days straight (it never comes down). The hair dye job gone wrong (I'm sporting at least three different colors in this mop...FOUR if you count the gray!)
Vampires are starting to look appealing to me. I mean, sure, the diet sucks, but at least you don't have reflections. I could do without reflections.
I am hard on myself lately. And then I beat myself up in round two for being so lazy and not really trying to look like a bonafide adult (I dress just like the local high school soccer players do, folks, honestly). And then in round three of my mental beatdown, I'm mad at myself for being so wrapped up in my looks.
So here we are. I'm not a vampire. I'm not in my kids' pictures. Something's gotta give soon and since I don't see myself growing any sort of gym devotion overnight or the means of a complete cosmetic and wardrobe overhaul, the solution is pretty simple.
I'm going to dig up all those great photos of me in 2008 and I"m going to learn how to Photoshop myself into the family pictures. Win-win, right?
Donut time, ya'll...
I think you look beautiful, Megan! Tired, maybe, but still you. I always enjoy seeing your photos. But I hear ya on the beating yourself up thing. I struggle with that a lot myself, as it often ends up with me feeling terribly--which really does affect my relationships and everything else. I have so few photos of my parents, but--apparently (?)--that's normal. I wish I had more pictures, but they gave me so much in so many other ways. I think we all intend to do things differently--to do better--and then we don't. I think it's only really a problem if the reason you're not in those pictures is because you're ashamed--mostly because shame is passed down to those we love most. Shame is bullshit, by the way. We totally manufacture it for ourselves sometimes, because we're the only ones thinking all of that. The only way to really get rid of it is to accept (and even sometimes love) all the crap that makes you feel like you don't deserve to be in those pictures.
ReplyDeleteI'm still working on that loving bit. The acceptance has been hard won.