Where Truth Resides for Me

tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8104996290668288269.post-38232243610241530192008-04-11T12:50:00.004-05:002008-04-11T13:02:20.248-05:00Where Truth Resides for Me<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/momofthreewi/2384033980/" title="photo sharing"><img src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3018/2384033980_b126527737_m.jpg" alt="" style="border: solid 2px #000000;" /></a> <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/momofthreewi/2384033980/">Laughing Mom and Theo</a> Originally uploaded by <a href="http://www.flickr.com/people/momofthreewi/">momofthreewi</a> I was inspired to write this post after today's post at <a href="http://shuttersisters.squarespace.com/home/2008/4/11/where-truth-resides.html#comments">Shutter Sisters</a>, my favorite photo blog. The inspiring post was all about treasuring that which is real in our lives. Our society is so tuned in to "perfection", to the constant pressure to look your best and be your best all the time. Many of us buy into this pressure, these expectations. Those that don't, those precious few who TRULY "don't care" what they look like, what others think of them, etc. have my admiration, I assure you...assuming that there is actually truth behind their words. For most of us, though, the desire is always simmering to be a little better, a little more (or less) of something than what we currently are. The amazing technological advancements in photography further this frenzy to achieve perfection. I applaud the celebrities who have recently gotten real about how photos of them are doctored and airbrushed to make them look ridiculously perfect. The message those kinds of photos send to young girls (of which I am the mother of two) is that real isn't good enough, that you must achieve some superhuman level of perfection to be admired by others. Thankfully, my children live in the real world and they know that beauty comes in many forms, shapes and sizes. As Midwesterners, we don't live in an area where the trends happen first or where everyone is out there trying to get everything they can possibly think of sucked out, cut off or surgically removed. We talk about make-up and when it will be appropriate to wear some and how important it is to let your natural beauty shine through. It did my heart a world of good to hear my two girls talking to each other recently about how some of Annie's classmates are starting to wear makeup and they wear "way too much" and it "doesn't look good on them" and "how much prettier she would be if she didn't wear all that makeup". Yes! The message is getting through. My children know I'm working out more and trying to lose about 35 pounds, but the message is loud and clear that this is for my health and well-being. They know that my mother died at 71 due to complications of diabetes and I don't want to follow in her footsteps, that being around for my children, my husband and someday, my grandchildren is the most important thing in the world to me. We've always promoted healthy eating and physical activity in our home, not because you need to be skinny and look a certain way, but because you will feel better, live longer, have more energy and be able to live life to its' fullest. I don't talk about feeling "fat" in front of my kids or complain about how I look in a particular outfit. I feel my job as a mother is to be a good role model and let them know that they are beautiful inside and out. In my private moments, of course I sometimes have those human feelings of wishing I could look a certain way, but this is me and there are only a limited number of things I can control. Having a younger sister with special needs has heightened my sensitivity and perhaps that of my children as well. It reminds us that we are all different, we all look different and in God's eyes, we are all perfect. We should strive to be healthy and to care for our bodies because we only have the one we are given, but beyond that, we are a product of our parents and their parents. We are part of a genetic history. Annie has a small, but noticeable birthmark on her cheek. Those who know Annie don't even see it anymore because she's just Annie. If she wants to have it removed someday, I will certainly support her decision. But I don't see a need for her to do that. She is Annie, birthmark and all. Caroline had 17 stitches on her forehead about four years ago, When her hair isn't falling in front of it, there is definitely a noticeable white line on her forehead about two inches long. Again, she might choose to have it removed by some medical means someday, but if not, it's a badge of honor, a great story to tell and it certainly doesn't detract from her beauty. I own Photoshop, a very savvy photo editing program that would allow me to modify pictures until I looked almost "perfect" if I really wanted to take the time to learn the program (it has a pretty complicated learning curve, in my opinion, so thus far it hasn't been for me). And believe me, I've been tempted. And a lot of photos with me in it never make it to a public forum like my blog or my Flickr page because I'm hard on myself when I look at them. The picture above is a perfect example. I took this one myself of me and Theo laughing hysterically while playing on the front lawn. The camera was on my lap and I just snapped a couple shots. I loved it in the tiny window of the camera, but when I uploaded it onto the computer the scrutinizing began. Where did those laugh lines come from? Doesn't my face look splotchy? I look really tired. Then I put on the brakes and took another good long look. This is beautiful. This is me and my perfect little specimen of a son, with our matching freckles and the same smile. This is a joyful moment between a mother and child, the sunlight behind us and spring hope in the air on a relaxed afternoon at home. This is a moment I will cherish forever and now it's preserved in a photo. How could I dare to change the moment by altering the photo so I looked "better"? I am his mother. He is my son. And together, we are perfection.Kelly K.http://www.blogger.com/profile/05481093713603607499noreply@blogger.com