Starting today, you will see more pictures of me on my blog. But I want you to know why.
My sons and my husband are incredibly handsome, and are the subjects that I most love to photograph. But they loathe cameras snapping in their faces, and only allow me to take pictures if I promise they will not be shared on social media. (Hand modeling is the exception to this rule, especially if they get to eat the subject) If I want any pictures of them at all, they must be kept hidden in family albums. Of course, I agree with their wishes. But as a mom, I would desperately love to show them off. Ah, well.
They must get this from me, as I hate having my picture taken, more than they do. It’s not the taking of the picture, but the revelation with every pic that I am not a Giselle or Angelina. You would think by this age I would get over that, but here we are: Middle age, still wondering if my jeans make me look fat.
There is something lacking from my blog. It’s always food, landscapes, or other people. There is no face, and no familiar spirit that shows up regularly. Even my “about me” portrait is a coy mirror shot of me peering from behind a camera. I don’t think that is going to cut it.
So I have decided to get over myself. There needs to be a person connected with this blog, and it might as well be me. Sigh. Here I am, with every detail that I will later pore over, and regret. (I think Joe the Dog likes how I look, though. He probably thinks I have a piece of bacon in my pocket. Quite possibly, he is correct.)
I want this blog to bring you to where I am, the deep ranch lands of South Texas, on the border between Spanish and English. This is my story, and I need to be the mind and face that tells it. At no point are the pics to be considered gloating selfies of a life well led. These pictures are not indicators of my self-admiration, nor of any brazen attempt to convince you that I’ve got it goin’ on. I will be just part my photographic landscape, as there are no cute babies nor compliant hunks that will humanize my posts for me. If you want something done, you must do it yourself.
Just know that in all these pics of me, I will be posing for my own camera. I used my husband’s enormous flapjack of a cowboy hat to hide my camera remote in this shot. Can you envision me posing for a photographer? I can’t. Plus, I wouldn’t have had this moment with Joe if someone else had been photographing. It’s going to be just me and my camera.
In twenty years, I will look back and think that I was a real looker. But for now, my selfies are simply for scale and place. I will occasionally smile.