*** This is an old post from my old blog that I am migrating here.*** -S&S
My grandfather passed away on Friday. As I was helping my mother deal with the details, I looked through boxes and boxes of old photographs to find pictures of PawPaw for the funeral. It was very cathartic to look at all the good times that our family has had over Easters and Christmases and birthdays and graduations. I noticed a big gap in years for pictures of myself. I knew why. I detested the camera. As I got bigger and bigger, all of my family knew that I didn't want to be in pictures. That's putting it mildly. It would start fights. My mother in law loves to take pictures, but she backed off because she didn't want to upset me. I never wanted to look at the picture and be faced with my size. Honestly, I still don't enjoy pictures. Whenever I see a fun moment caught on camera at a party or with my family, I'm always disappointed.
I thought I looked better than that. Why didn't anyone tell me my hair was a mess? I could have sworn I put on make up that day! Why do I always smile so goofy?
These are the thoughts that run through my head now, but they are nothing like how I felt when I looked at pictures from my heavy days. Regardless, I realize now looking back, I was incredibly selfish to throw such a fit. My family and friends already knew how big I was. They saw me everyday and it was not a shock to them that I was 100 lbs overweight. The shock was all mine. They just wanted to remember the moment. I was the brat ruining it because someone dared take out a camera. I know a lot of my clients feel the same way, but I hope they don't wait until they are "perfect" before rejoining their family snapshots.
There are very few pictures of my mom from my life. I know its because she felt the same way, but looking through those thousands of pictures, I wish there were more of her. I don't care what size she was, I just want to relive those memories with her in them.
I have already skipped out on all the baby years with my children. I refuse to be missing from the rest of their lives in pictures. Even on fat days. Even when I have no make-up. Even when I have a bad hair day. Even when my smile is too goofy.
My grandfather passed away on Friday. As I was helping my mother deal with the details, I looked through boxes and boxes of old photographs to find pictures of PawPaw for the funeral. It was very cathartic to look at all the good times that our family has had over Easters and Christmases and birthdays and graduations. I noticed a big gap in years for pictures of myself. I knew why. I detested the camera. As I got bigger and bigger, all of my family knew that I didn't want to be in pictures. That's putting it mildly. It would start fights. My mother in law loves to take pictures, but she backed off because she didn't want to upset me. I never wanted to look at the picture and be faced with my size. Honestly, I still don't enjoy pictures. Whenever I see a fun moment caught on camera at a party or with my family, I'm always disappointed.
I thought I looked better than that. Why didn't anyone tell me my hair was a mess? I could have sworn I put on make up that day! Why do I always smile so goofy?
These are the thoughts that run through my head now, but they are nothing like how I felt when I looked at pictures from my heavy days. Regardless, I realize now looking back, I was incredibly selfish to throw such a fit. My family and friends already knew how big I was. They saw me everyday and it was not a shock to them that I was 100 lbs overweight. The shock was all mine. They just wanted to remember the moment. I was the brat ruining it because someone dared take out a camera. I know a lot of my clients feel the same way, but I hope they don't wait until they are "perfect" before rejoining their family snapshots.
There are very few pictures of my mom from my life. I know its because she felt the same way, but looking through those thousands of pictures, I wish there were more of her. I don't care what size she was, I just want to relive those memories with her in them.
I have already skipped out on all the baby years with my children. I refuse to be missing from the rest of their lives in pictures. Even on fat days. Even when I have no make-up. Even when I have a bad hair day. Even when my smile is too goofy.
My grandfather took this picture. He was one of the few people I wouldn't argue with. (I knew better.) I'm glad he did. I don't care how big I was. My grandmother is gone now and I'm happy there is a picture of us together.
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