Author: helvrum@hotmail.com

 

Ever since she lost that second tooth on top, I’ve caught her looking at her reflection in the mirror a number of times, checking to see if the tooth-window is still there. Sure enough, it is. I love to see her admire the changes that are so obvious in her body, knowing that some day the curiosity will be less blatant and outright, more private, as it should be. But for now, she’ll let me stand in the doorway of the bathroom and watch.

And she’ll try and brush those curls straight when her hair is wet, to see how long it really is, but by the time it dries, it springs back up to curly-sue type hair.

Oh, Audrey. Danger Kitty Cat. She’s like a super hero or a mullet. Calm in public, wild in private. Or business on top and party on back. Whatever. I love her. All parts of her. But sometimes even I’m ready to curl into a ball and yell ‘Uncle’. The above photo, where she’s climbing on the table? Well, Maggie is trying to do her homework and write about a science experiment we just did. And tha moose? We had the class stuffed animal home with us for the week, so it was ‘helping’ Maggie do her science.

The science project was to make ‘goo,’ which is really just super sticky, slimy gunk. It was fun and great, until the end. I decided that I should document the stuffed moose ‘helping’ and walked out of the room for no more than 20 seconds. TWENTY LONG SECONDS, apparently. Because I came back and Audrey was rolling around on the ground rubbing the goo all over her clothes and the ground. TWENTY SECONDS.

It was a mess. And that’s why she doesn’t have any clothes on while she’s conquering the table while Maggie has laser-like attention on her writing.

Whatever. Like I said, Audrey is a bit like a super hero or a mullet. Maybe a super hero with a mullet?

I love her either way.

All of her.

 

I get it. Not everybody wants their picture taken or even a memento to remember certain times, places or phases. I’m not that person. I’m sentimental down to my core and all the dots that connect to make me who I am are woven together by moments that tell my story. I certainly don’t love having my photo taken, I’d much rather be behind the camera capturing the story that belongs to somebody else. But I fight that urge to be invisible because I know, I know, how important it is.

More often than not, when I’m taking pictures of women, they confess to me their darkest and deepest criticism of their bodies, hoping that I’ll be able to suddenly Photoshop away their shame. Too fat arms, a big nose, a chubby belly, crooked teeth, a non-symmetrical face, no boobs, grey hair, clothes that don’t fit right, zits…..it goes on and on. Whispered confessions before, during and after our shoots. Even when we had our own family pictures taken, I heard myself fighting so hard against my inner dialogue worrying about it, worrying about ME and how I looked. LOOKED. I cried when our pictures arrived because I couldn’t believe how much I loved them, how beautiful we were as a family, but also how vibrant I looked. Happiness shining through.

Why can’t we, women, just see ourselves for who we are NOW and embrace the beauty of it.  Aging and seasonal changes in life usher in shifts in our hearts, but also to our physical appearances. If we’re doing it right we should all feel beautiful and the world should notice that. But we don’t. Instead we whisper and confess what feels like our failures, when really we should be searching, seeking, and holding tight to the slices of beauty we carry.

There doesn’t need to be a reason, a milestone on the calendar, a weight on a scale, an anniversary or even a plan made by somebody else to find the beauty that we’ve ll got. It probably doesn’t even take much searching, but more of letting go. Perhaps only a reminder is needed that we are each individuals with our own quirks, qualms…..and true, honest, beauty.