Vain

I don't photograph well. I never have and I'm not upset about it anymore. The camera loves Chris, Mother, and my brother Mallory Joe. It doesn't love Dad, or me. Our three sons are somewhere in the middle. They're good looking boys and sometimes I get wonderful photographs of them, and sometimes I don't. Any photographer will confirm these facts. Some people are more photogenic than others. I'm not fishing for compliments, nor am I saying I'm SO much better looking in person.

When I post a picture of myself, trust that I've gone through as many options as possible before I've shared it with you. It's as good as it's gonna get, but I've put thought into it. Except that one time a friend called and said, "Your eyes don't look right in that picture. Did you do something?" The answer was yes. I overdid the Botox and had a Melissa Rivers, scary smile for a few weeks. It's gone now.

I was tagged in a photo on Facebook recently. It was taken at a high school reunion five years ago. I'd seen the photo prior in a friend's album, cringed and thought to myself, Don't be so vain. I hadn't been tagged with it at that point so I let it go. People who visited his Facebook page and albums would see it, but the overlap of our circle of friends was small. The majority of my Facebook friends would not see it.

I didn't like the picture because it highlighted the features on my face I've been the most self-conscious of my entire life. It was not flattering of my nose and was taken prior to my Nasal-Surgery-Not-A-Nose-Job. I was wearing bright red lipstick and my lips were curled under so they looked unusually thin and non-existent. The angle of the photo, my side stance, and the great! sleeveless dress I wore made one arm look disproportionately big for my body. The picture was taken at close range and was very unforgiving. The two other people in the picture looked great. I looked like Chyna, the female wrestler.

When I was tagged, the photo appeared in all it's huge glory on my profile page and populated one of my albums. I saw it, gasped, nuked it, then frantically typed a note to the friend who tagged me, apologizing for my vanity and over-explained the situation. [This friend is a very nice man who I've had no contact with in 25 years, other than the brief hello and photo at the reunion.] We had several exchanges, with me continuing to over-explain and over-apologize, resulting in him deleting the photo from his album too. [This man is busy—job, wife, kids, etc.,— and I sucked him into a babbling email exchange about how I looked like Chyna the wrestler in the picture, but I'm not THAT vain. I'm NORMAL DAMMIT! PLEASE BELIEVE ME!]

QUESTION:  My initial thought was I want veto power over all photos of me that others might share on Facebook or blogs. However, I've enjoyed seeing 30-year-old class photos with 25 kids and a teacher. A notification "rule" seems unnecessary in some cases. What are your thoughts on photo sharing etiquette?

Supermodel

I met her four years ago. We were both pregnant. She, with her sixth and final child, me with my third, and "What was I thinking?" child. I'm four years older than her. She'll be 39 in late May this year. One week later, I'll be 43.

In many ways, we are different. She is a member of a church that I am not. She and I have contrasting opinions on politics and a variety of social issues, although we've found more common ground than people might think.

I drink wine, she does not. She cooks with it and will send one of her children to our home to retrieve a brown paper lunch sack concealing a plastic container of Chardonnay or Cabernet Sauvignon for one of her recipes. I say to the helpful and obedient child, "Be careful. Don't open the sack or spill. Your mama needs this for her recipe."

In this woman, who is so different from me, I have found a kindred spirit. There are portions of our days, weeks, and lives that are not compatible, yet she pulls me. The few common threads we share are strong ones.

I have friends who I've known and loved much longer than Supermodel. Friendships that require less struggle and no suppression of thoughts. Supermodel and I have had teeth clenched, tongue biting, nose snorting, heart-pounding conversations, and stare downs. Yet, she pulls me.

Three years ago, I recall standing in the doorway from our kitchen to our garage. Chris was away on business. Toddler Child was nine-months-old, and I was exhausted. Supermodel had tried to phone me a few times within a couple of days, and I hadn't answered her calls. Our garage door was open because the older boys were playing outside. I opened the kitchen door to the garage and saw Supermodel several feet away in our driveway. Our eyes met, and she said, "What's wrong?"

I said, "It's my _____."

She took what seemed like two steps, reached her long and loving arms towards me, and I sobbed as she held me. She just held me. She didn't try to explain it or fix it, she simply soothed. I'll never forget it.

Among other reasons, this is why I call her Supermodel.

Attention, class... I'm Mrs. Ross, your sub.

Kate at The Big Piece of Cake invited me to guest post for her this week while she takes a blog break.  I was initially uncomfortable with the request because I'm not a fan of guest posts. [I may have just committed blog suicide by confessing that.  What else is new?]  I'm a loyal reader of my favorite bloggers so I'm disappointed to see someone else writing on their behalf.  Like having a substitute teacher when you're not expecting it.  I sigh, then I read the post [usually sometimes] and try to leave a supportive comment.  I have to admit I've found a few new blogs to follow via guest posts.

I worked through my issues and thanked Kate for even considering me to write something for her loyal readers.  I was and am truly flattered.  She has three young children, a husband, works full-time outside the home, and produces A LOT of quality blog material.  It's a miracle if I manage to grunt and groan and moan and think and type - and push a post every few days.

You can see my guest post on Kate's blog by clicking here.  I was going to post it on my blog too, until I realized if I still had a "blog pulse" left from confessing I don't like guest bloggers, a double-post would pretty much do me in.  [Blog suicide - complete.]  Nevertheless, go read Kate.  I might be revived that way.  I see the light...