A few short years ago, you would not have found me in many pictures.
In fact, aside from Christmas card photos or group photos, you'd be hard pressed to find me in any of our family events. I have always been more comfortable behind the camera documenting everyone else's lives. Besides, we People Of The Round Face are not the most photogenic, but that's not important right now.
A few short years ago, I would not even be sharing my life so openly or candidly or so…publicly.
My children's first steps, first teeth, first foods, first bath, first days of school – all photographed and catalogued and annotated in albums. My firsts, or any other part of my own life for that matter (as the youngest of six kids from a Cuban refugee family), not so much.
I don't know when it happened exactly. I think it was after my dad passed away and I was looking fondly at old photos of him. My dad was not particularly handsome, but I remember thinking as I looked at photos of him that he had great skin and a pleasant face and I was sad that I did not know more about the details of his life.
I realized then that I had actually been a bit selfish in my self-consciousness. By not including photos of myself and sharing my own story, I was doing my kids a disservice.
And so, in spite of my un-photogenic-ness (<—that should totally be a word), I go ahead and post my photos on my blog for all the cyber-world to see (sometimes too often? =D) and I tell my own stories with a certain amount of abandon.
So what if I'm not beautiful or particularly photogenic.
Like my dad, I've got great skin and a pleasant face. And that's good enough, don't you think?