Yesterday in the process of cleaning/rearranging the boys' room to accomodate their new (to them, thanks Chockleys!) couch, BD came across an old picture of me with the boys. Calvin is 4 and Joshua is around 10 months old, balanced on my knee in terry footies looking a little wacky with his huge baby grin. I'm pregnant with Somerset, but you can't tell because of our positioning and my black top and jeans...and the fact that my face is thinner in the picture than it is now.
Pictures are hard for me. I've never photgraphed well, even when I was 17 and weighed 105 pounds. Sure, occasionally there's a good shot of me, but in most pictures I look swollen and chinless. I have actually cried over pictures of myself, because it's so much easier for me to believe the photographic evidence than what I think I see in the mirror each day or what anyone says.
But you know, when I look at a picture of myself with my two sons taken almost eight years ago, and "Shit, I'm fatter than I was pregnant for the second time in two years" outweighs "Aw, look how little and cute my boys were," I know that something is wrong. I know I have to do better, on several levels.
Like the lady sang:
It took me too long to realize
that I don't take good pictures
cuz I have the kind of beauty that moves