The picture taking process...

...and my hatred of it leads me to believe that perhaps I should take up the camera.

I've always heard that photographers hate having their picture taken, that they prefer to take them.

I HATE having my picture taken.

Perhaps I would prefer to take them.

This is all stems, I know, from the fact that I am currently the heaviest I have even been in my life.


To the point that I simply do not recognise myself anymore.

I really want to erase what I just wrote. As I write this I feel the tell-tale signs of an all out crying fest about to unleash itself and I really don't want to have that happen.

I feel so shallow and superficial for even letting it bother me. To even give it room to...breathe as it were. I have an amazing life, an amazing husband and amazing children and yet I find that I dwell on my weight a lot lately.

Sherri, the girl that we have just hired to join us on the Usedfilm Studios team, has very graciously offered to watch Hawke for me so that I can start working out.

This is a start. One I am grateful for.

Today Zack wanted to take a family "portrait" of all of us while Kara was here. The very thought of it made me want to throw up. We started to take some pictures of all us together and I wanted to crawl out of my skin. I couldn't have been more grateful to Hawke for needing to eat when he did. I got out of there as fast as I could. Watched as Zack, Erik, Kara and Sherri danced and did silly things on the cyc wall and taking pictures of all of it at the same time.

I know of all the stuff about how we, as a society, are mass marketed to and that our perceptions of what is and isn't considered beautiful are all wonky but HELL, I still can't shake off this overwhelming...what's the word.


I need to stop whining.

A woman named Jen Gordon I knew once wrote something like, "Put on your big girl pants and get to work!"

This is what I need to do.

But it feels hard.

And I know that I am not the only one that feels this way, especially all of you women out there.

I think what paralyzes me is that I know how at times how harshly I can judge, how critical I can be towards others, and I assume that everyone is being equally critical of me.

That was not an easy thing to admit. Nor was it easy to write. But dang it all, I refuse to be anything but authentic.

Even if it's not easy.


I'm not even sure of the point of this post anymore.

I have a lot of soul searching to do. Because this self hatred I'm dealing with is infecting me. It's eating me up. And it's a silly thing to be infected with.

Forgive the indulgent nature of this post.