The Boobs are Real. It’s the Smile That’s Fake.

I had a General Foods International Coffee Moment, and I’m going to celebrate it: 

I’ve been battling with myself for a while over some recent stupidity. A couple of weeks ago I was noticing that something was wrong with every picture taken of me in the past few months (even on my birthday—and THAT is sacrilege!). I look sad, even though I’m smiling. Whether or not it’s evident to anyone else, I see it and it makes me angry (I should probably be taking pictures then). I hate those pictures. I don’t like the girl in them. And I hate the ones of her before the sadness, too.

--At least I think I do; I can’t look at them anymore.

Recently I wrote about needing to pretend things never happened. Let me qualify that, because I don’t believe suppression ever does anyone any good: I’m not suppressing anything. I just need to ignore a specific period of time temporarily until I can look back on it and not feel…everything. It’s not suppression; it’s shelving. It’s like knowing you have a closet to clean out and that it’s going to be a big job, so you wait until can devote the full day to it. And I don’t have the time right now; I have better things to do (I hear in my head a small, mocking laugh at that).

It’s fun being inside my head (not that I would recommend it to anyone). The things I think about to keep me amused…

Humor has always been my first line of defense, and for a while I was very, very good at it. When I was in my 20’s I had a boyfriend tell me that my humor was a little…biting (I think I mentioned that once before), so I worked at toning it down. I thought I did a pretty good job of it until I found myself on the receiving end of it lately (I guess that I suppressed!). We all are our own worst critics, aren’t we? The things that I’ve said to myself recently have been quite funny…and very sharp. I laugh and wince at the same time when I hear them. Often.

But yesterday in my head, I heard myself make another joke at my expense—and I laughed. With no mockery, no derision or anger. At all. It was just funny. And I just laughed.

And then I took a picture to preserve the moment.

So now I have a new favorite picture.

See her? She’s smiling. And—at that moment—she means it.

Even if it doesn’t last too long, it’s more than what it was. I’ll take it. Maybe try to use it as a starting point. Either way, I'm going to milk it for all it's worth.

(Two steps forward and two steps back is a Cha-Cha, right? I love to dance.)