Getting Over Myself

When I first got a look at my new blog template, I started sorting through the seemingly endless options of how to arrange it. Should I put the logo first, then the header, then the page links and the About section?  Or should I put the header first, and then the page links, and then the About section, and leave out the logo?  I felt like I was in the toy aisle at the store one week before Christmas, trying to figure out what to buy my girls.  Only this time I couldn’t blow it off and opt for the gift card instead.

The hard part for me was not the header (though sizing those pics for it was a bit of a challenging) or where to put the page links. It was the About section. Specifically the part where it asks me to upload a photo. Of myself.  It even gives me an example photographer picture for inspiration. Only the example photographer looks like she belongs on the cover of Cosmo and not from the gene pool that parks itself in front of my mirror every morning and tries not to look too closely.

I tell this to all my clients - and I don’t say it just to make people feel comfortable - but I much, much, much prefer to be behind the camera.  Not in front of it.  In fact, I rather despise being in front of it.  I am not photogenic. AT ALL.  When I see pictures of myself, I’m usually shocked that that’s my face. Maybe I should put in my contacts before I get myself ready for the day.

I try really hard to stay away from vanity. And it does get easier the older I get. I’m learning to accept myself the way I am, to accept those little fine lines in the corners of my eyes or the gray hairs that keep sprouting everyday or the 10-12 eyebrow hairs on my left eyebrow that, for whatever reason, grow in the opposite direction as the other 100.  I leave the house without make-up on pretty frequently these days, whereas 10 years ago I couldn’t even go to the mailbox without it. I hope that means I’m growing as a person instead of just growing lazy.

So last night I made my husband and children drive to the local forest preserve to do a photo shoot of me, hoping that I could find one lowly picture of myself to upload to my website. Only I probably should have chosen a time when I hadn’t been awake for 13 hours already and looked like I was ready to collapse. When I’m tired and I attempt to smile, only one eye opens all the way. The other takes a cat nap. So I just look like I’m really, really bad at winking. Needless to say, I deleted all those. And then I quickly went to bed.

This morning I started out ready to remedy the situation. Did it really need to be a picture of ME???  I mean, couldn’t I upload a cute little picture of something else of mine, like say these two little birdies that, for some reason, photographers are drawn to like George Hamilton is to tanning beds?

Or, maybe I could just upload pictures of parts of me, like my feet.

Or my eye with the funky eyebrow:

Or a smile to show how friendly I am:

But that would kind of be a cop out, wouldn’t it?  I mean, those are all parts of me (minus the birds) but it isn’t all of me. It isn’t what my clients give me every week when they shuffle their feet and ask me how to stand and worry about all the same things I do when the camera is pointed at me, like their smiles and noses and ears and wrinkles and funky eyebrow hairs.  And yet when I get home and look at their photos, I think about how beautiful they are and I don’t notice all those little things that they worry about. And neither does anyone else. Because, well, not to sound cliche, but you are beautiful just the way you are.

So, here I am, getting over myself.  Who’s with me?