Yesterday, I took my camera and a couple of changes of clothes to work so that my assistant (well, she's not technically my assistant, but it would take too long and too many words to describe what she does do) could take my picture. I needed some headshots for a couple of things coming up, but didn't want to go get professional photos done because I have neither the time nor the money.
I figured between a decent camera and some decent editing programs, I should be able to come up with one good shot! We took like 150 photos and came up with about 6 that I considered to be decent.
As I was editing the photos, getting rid of zits and stray hairs, I "erased" my wrinkles. But when I looked at the photo, I thought, "I actually don't mind my wrinkles. They're me." So I hit "undo" and presto! my wrinkles were back on my face. It's funny to me that I can't handle having gray hair or flabby triceps, but I don't mind having wrinkles. Most of the ones I have are what people used to call "laugh lines." I like the idea of that. That my face is permanently marked from laughter. From joy. From the life I have lived. I have lived much and my face tells the story. Somehow, that's cool. And okay.
All that to say, I like my wrinkles. Not so sure about the double chin, but the wrinkles, I like.
Sonnet XV
ReplyDeleteby William Shakespeare
When I consider every thing that grows
Holds in perfection but a little moment,
That this huge stage presenteth nought but shows
Whereon the stars in secret influence comment;
When I perceive that men as plants increase,
Cheered and cheque'd even by the self-same sky,
Vaunt in their youthful sap, at height decrease,
And wear their brave state out of memory;
Then the conceit of this inconstant stay
Sets you most rich in youth before my sight,
Where wasteful Time debateth with Decay,
To change your day of youth to sullied night;
And all in war with Time for love of you,
As he takes from you, I engraft you new.
you're pretty.
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