Sunday, June 6, 2010
Let me start of by saying, I don't typically sit around taking pictures of myself. I used to, a lot, back when I was single, oooh 6 or 7 years ago. I especially used to try extra hard at taking flattering pictures of myself (pictures that didn't really look like me, but were me), to post on Myspace or Friendster, whichever website I was using at the time.
I had low self esteem, and felt the need to over glamorize myself. You know what I'm talking about, right? The "I'm skinny, really" pictures, where you hold the camera up at a looking-down-at-you type angle, hoping to trick everyone? Too bad the entire world caught onto that one real quick. Photo fail. Or- I'd load myself up with so much makeup that when somebody finally did get the shock of seeing me without it, they'd ask me if I was sick (that really happened, more than once), or worse, they wouldn't even recognize me at all.
...I can't believe I ever cared so much.
This is what I really look like. Those are my real freckles, thats my real eye color, and that camera angle is looking at me from straight on, no tricks involved. There is nothing but a small smear of lip gloss across my pout, and a single swipe of mascara on my lashes to enhance my features. I often like to hide behind my thick rimmed glasses, so I made sure to take those off too. Sometimes I look in the mirror and I don't recognize myself. Maybe its because I don't do it as often as I used to (look at myself, I mean), or maybe its because I've changed so much? Either way, I for some reason felt it necessary to tell all of you about this, and to show you what I really look like.
And if I can show you what my face really looks like, then I can show you the rest of the pictures I took too...
I had been telling myself for
One week ran into another, this excuse became that one, there were more dinners to cook and more muffins to bake, yadda yadda blah blah-
But today, after arguing with my husband over a whole lot of nothing (hes switching to swing shift starting tomorrow, theres tension), I took that as my cue to escape. I grabbed my camera, announced that I'd be taking a shower, and headed upstairs for an undetermined amount of time. I showered, I dried and curled my hair (rare, but I do occassionally try), and then I had myself a nice little photo shoot.
I started out using my tripod, but after several failed attempts, it just wasn't working out. I moved drawers to clear wall space, but then the lighting was wrong. I set the self timer on my Rebel, but then the focus was off. It was one thumbs down after another, and just as I was about to put my lens cap on and go downstairs without a single picture of my silhouette, I figured going into the bathroom and doing it the old fashioned way of point-and-shoot-at-the-mirror, was worth a try.
Standing there in my tank top and underwear, I adjusted the depth, and snapped a shot. It wasn't until pushing the play button, that I realized I wasn't wearing pants. While I was initially embarrassed, even though nobody else was there to laugh at me, It wasn't a bad dream- I decided that maybe this was how I was meant to take these pictures.
So I snapped another...
While this next one turned out blurry and slanted to the right- it was accurate. I was smiling, my belly was showing, and Bean began to kick.
Just like Bean is kicking right now while I write this.
Last night I started playing the "do you think..." game.
"Do you think Bean will have light hair like Elie did, or dark hair like Charlie?".
"Do you think Bean will be small like Elie was when she was born, or bigger like Charlie?".
"Do you think that Bean will-"
The do you think's go on forever.
My feet are hidden underneath me. I rarely see them, but I know they exist. You can tell that my legs and toes see way more sun than the rest of my skin. I typically wear shorts on my morning walks, and almost always choose flip flops when we go outside to play.
My belly is big enough now, that its taken on a mind of its own. This week alone, I've almost caught my shirt on fire, I've knocked over more than one water glass (luckily, none have broken), and I've accidentally turned on the dishwasher with the slightest of nudges.
At 30 weeks, Bean should be about 3 pounds in weight, and over 15 inches long.
Have I mentioned how weird I feel about taking pictures of myself? I think I have.
In the short amount of time that has passed since taking these pictures though, I'm already very pleased with having done it. If I wouldn't have taken the time today, I probably would have put it off for another week. And then another. And then another.
I have a few pregnant Mama pictures from when I was creating Eleanore, pictures that we took towards the very end of my last trimester, during one of the few weekends that Christopher was allowed to leave his training base and visit me in my nearby apartment.
I took a couple of pictures while I was pregnant with Charlie, just simple shots in the downstairs bathroom, the toilet paper roll holder in the background nearly always being empty (a bad habit I've since cracked down on). That same year, we had family portraits taken at a local studio (not something we normally do, but I'm glad we did), and we ended up taking a maternity shot or two- which are now hanging up on display in our upstairs hallway. I stopped to look at them earlier today, in complete amazement of how quickly our lives are playing out.
Alright, so not all of my pictures turned out the way they were supposed to. At least now you know that we're stocked up on toilet paper, and that we use black bath towels (thanks again, Mom, we love them!).
This was my favorite shot out of all of them. And I think it was the last one I took. You can only pose so many ways, when standing in front of your bathroom mirror, trying to get pictures of your belly.
I'm glad I took the time to finally do this. Even if I only take one or two more pictures during this pregnancy, which very well may be my last, I'll be completely satisfied.
Let it be known, little Bean, that you are very loved.