In Which the Mother Self-Delights

So, I don't believe in karma, but if I did, that's how I would explain the fact that most of the photos that get taken of me these days are AWFUL - because I used to relish taking funky - silly - outrageously gross pictures of my mother. Relish as in Laugh Heartily, my poor mother cringing in despair to see that the evidence of her life was being taken by a sadistic teenager who thought that taking pics of her mother sans makeup at awkward moments was good fun.

(Well, it was...)

And so I have accepted this fate that is now mine, because I know I deserve it. I click through the closeups of my pores, the snapshots of my colorless, bloated, sleep-deprived eyes, the portraits that capture my ratty hair and bad teeth, and I let the rave that wants to come out - "Why did you take this picture of me??!!!" - slink away, shamefully...

So please understand that finding this photo of me where I look half decent feels like some kind of omnipotent forgiveness... also I am really proud that since getting my new haircut right before Sam was born, I've been faithfully doing something I've never done before in my whole life - blow drying my hair every time I shower. It makes such a difference! My hair feels cleaner longer... and it looks kinda nice. Now, I only shower every two or three days, because of the effort required, but it's working for me - showering and doing my hair feels like an earned pleasure, not a daily hassle to rush through before downing breakfast and racing out the door...

Ironic that I should be more well-put-together now that I'm NOT going to the office everyday, isn't it?