Who says what?

Novelist, mother, minister, and yoga teacher muses on books, babies, motherhood, and what matters with reverent humor.

Wednesday, January 28, 2009

So You Photoshopped My Zit?

Recently, while searching in vain for an attractive picture of myself for use in book publicity, I came upon the sudden and shocking realization that THERE ARE NO GOOD PICTURES OF ME. There are only good pictures of my children. Another lesson of motherhood learned.

In the meantime, I had the opportunity to be offended by all the awful shots of me worshipping my beautiful babies and looking, generally speaking here, like a heroin addict going through withdrawal. You know the look: bleary eyes, blotchy skin, usually wearing pajamas.

My husband did find a few photos of me he liked. One he took a particular shine to he decided belonged on our holiday card. The only trouble? The not-so-adorable-as-my-daughter zit on my left cheek all but jumping out of the photograph and looking the beholder straight in the eye. Honestly, I could barely see my daughter. All I could see was my zit.

Enter modern technology. "I can Photoshop your zit right out of the picture," my husband said. Really? In an instant could I really be transformed into a woman with flawless skin? Could he also do some work with my dry post-partem hair, or perhaps touch up my now shimmery, silver stretch marks? Could he take away the hint of a double chin, or maybe sketch in a pair of diamond earrings? (If he's not going to buy them, this seems the least he could do.)

And so, goodbye zit. All our friends and family got the holiday card with the Photoshopped zit and the perfect mother. (Actually, my hair did look really bad and no one bothered to fix it.) This, then, is my gripe against technology, and for that matter against facebook and blogs and every other form of communication that can lie. Or if not lie, present only what we want presented.

I'm not saying I'm ugly. I'm just saying I look awfully human most of the time. Of course, I'm best live and in person. My children don't mind. They love me. They love my zit. After all, we're one and the same.

1 comment:

  1. Hey, at least he's helping you look through the pictures!

    And don't worry... the kids will have enough zit anxiety of their own in about 12 years.