Remember the good old days when cameras used film? You took all of your vacation pictures home with you in little black canisters — their contents largely unknown. And when you got around to it, you would drop them off at the nearest photo developing place and get them back within one to three business days.
Ahh yes, the good old days of blissful ignorance when your vacation could not possibly become clouded by some random image of you frozen in time. The picture was snapped and everyone moved merrily on their way.
But now that we live in the digital age and have the opportunity to SEE that random image of ourselves almost frozen in time—that is before we hit the SAVE button—we often recoil at what we see and wish for a do-over. We reposition ourselves in an attempt to look happier, taller, thinner or ironically… more natural than we did in the previous snapshot.
During our trip to New York we took a lot of pictures. After all, New York is a magnificent city with so much worth seeing and remembering and Lee is a wonderful photographer who artistically and diligently documents the events of our travels by taking numerous fun and interesting pics.
Occasionally when he would snap one I would ask to see it before we moved on to the next destination on our “must-see” list. And occasionally I would ask him for a do-over… particularly if I felt that said photograph made my face look fat.
<<< As a side note, other than the scale and my clothing, photos are very revealing to me when it comes to a change in my weight. Oftentimes they are even MORE telling than clothing and if I so much as suspect that the scale is inching in an upward direction I refuse to get on it. So photos can sometimes provide me with that slap-in-the-face “AH-HA moment” (as Oprah would say) … and inspire me to get off my butt and do something about my upward mobility. >>>
OK… back to the story. Lee put up with my requests for do-overs for about a day. But then, in the early part of the second day when I pouted and complained about my ginormous moon face he sighed, put the camera down, looked at me and said something kind of like this: “Joanna. You know you are not fat. And we are in New York. One of the greatest cities in the world not to mention one of the greatest cities to EAT in the world… and you are complaining about your weight. I don’t want you to TALK about or even THINK about your weight until we get home. If you want to worry about it then, that’s your prerogative. But for now… Just enjoy.”
And he was right. I knew he was 100% right. I knew that I was being ridiculous and shallow and that if I really am unhappy with my current weight… Well… Sitting down in front of a gorgeous, large, authentic, New York-style pizza pie from Lombardi’s—the very first and oldest pizzeria in America—was most certainly NOT the time nor place to start worrying about it.