Three years ago, I wrote a blog imploring parents to not fade away from the pictures. I had a strong emotional reaction to the realization that there are only four pictures of me and my mom. Four. She hated having her picture taken, and most pictures taken of her, well, she’s not smiling. If my mom is smiling in the picture, then there’s a good chance alcohol was involved.
My blog resonated with a lot of folks who saw themselves in my mom. I have had friends tell me that my blog woke something up in them, and now, they get in the pictures with their kids. I am so proud of that, really and truly. I am glad I was able to reach out to parents and convince them that years from now, their children will only see them, not any of their so-called flaws.
I have a confession to make: I am just like my mother, really and truly. I look like her, walk like her, and have the absolute same disdain for being photographed… like her.
I made a gallows humor joke to my friends that if I die, my loved ones will find it hard to find decent photographs of me. Instead, they’ll have to make due with all the fantastic photographs I have taken of others. To be honest, it was a joke, but after I said it, I might be okay with this idea anyway.
I hate having my picture taken, and I honestly believe it’s why I started taking pictures in the first place. I didn’t want to be in them. It is definitely why, whenever I’m photographing an event, I am sympathetic toward people like me who hate having their picture taken. If it’s unflattering, I’ll delete it or take a new photograph.
When I see pictures of myself, I cringe at my uneven skin or never perfect hair. I just see flaws. I view these pictures as a photographer and someone who doesn’t necessarily always like what she sees.
In recent years, I have tried to be better about being in the pictures, especially when my nieces and nephews are around. I take silly selfies with them. I act weird in photos with my dad. I think the last photograph I took with my dad really sums up our relationship:
There are very few pictures of me and my ex, which used to bother me but now, hell that isn’t a bad thing, LOL. I’m a-okay with how that turned out. I don’t want the same thing to happen with my boyfriend. He makes me so happy I feel like I radiate smiley faces and heart emojis from my very core.
I don’t want to disappear from the pictures, just like my mom did. I’m a damned good photographer but I’m not photogenic. Maybe one day, I’ll come to the same revelation others did reading my blog from 2014.