Skip to main content

Naked on film


My Facebook profile picture. So many people commenting on my beauty.
My emotions runneth over ...

When I was younger, I remember crying every time my picture was taken. Somewhere in the past few years, I started having fun with taking pictures with others. Selfies with my girls have become a tradition. We take at least one every time we are together. Selfies with strangers bring smiles to all involved. A couple of weeks ago, I asked my friend who was getting into photography if she would be willing to take some pictures of what 50 looks like on me. What I thought would be photos showing the fun-loving, positive woman I am, showed so much more than I was expecting.

As I looked at them, I was overcome with emotion.  Tears fell as I saw the journey I have been on this last year symbolized in the pictures. From the messy, yet beautiful, graffiti-laced  location of the shoot to the editing of the photos, Michell Bowers went behind my smile captured all of me…the confidence, the beauty, the vulnerability. The photos tell the story…
       


  










And just like that, I was jumpin' off the edge...






Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The Hardest One Yet

 From the time I began this blog, I made the conscious choice that I would be honest and open in the moment – whatever is going on. For the most part, I have done that.  After struggling about whether to write about this particular challenge (let alone share it), I chose to do the uncomfortable and do both – write and share. “Your certification has not even been processed yet. Probably won’t happen until at least the middle of January.”  I took a deep breath as I heard those words a couple weeks ago and I realized what that meant. Christmas would look very different than originally planned. The retroactive pay that Santa was counting on to make the holiday something special for our family would not be coming. I took a deep breath as I hung up the phone and walked out of my classroom, despair bombarding the hope and excitement of the upcoming holiday. A tornado of thoughts began whirling in my head as I walked to the guidance office. Playing with our budget in my head trying to

The Next Chapter Begins...

The first round of tears happened during the 8 th grade promotion. It has been such a wonderful year with all of them – 7 th and 8 th graders alike. The second round of tears came when I learned I do not have a contract for next year. I will not be returning to Benson Middle School unless the displaced teachers do not jump at the chance for my classroom.   Right after she told me, I did my best to remain professional and keep the tears at bay. Unfortunately, they came anyway. About the time the tears hit my eyes, an email a dear friend sent me when I first wrote about the contract situation came to mind: “There is always a reason for things. Maybe God wants you to move on and inspire other students.” I love what she says. I feel that with my whole being. However, it did not make hearing that I have no job any easier. So now what? I am floating off the edge again. My family began the year in two different states. We are reunited again in North Carolina. Both Tony and I with

Aging sucks.....or does it?

Upon first thought, watching a parent age sucks. Unnoticeable at first. A bit of a stoop, some creaking in the knees, whitening of the hair. The doctor’s visits begin, as do the pills One for high blood pressure, another to thin the blood, and a handful of vitamins to top it off. The signs are there, but it is easier to see him as he has always been. My father, a pillar of strength. Until my pillar was knocked off-kilter. A simple surgery and the mortality of my father looked me square in the eye when the drugs took hold of his brain. Amidst his fidgeting and confusion, I realized…AGING SUCKS! And then….enlightenment dawned upon me….AGING IS BEAUTIFUL Wrinkles tell of smiles while silver hair speaks a life of memories. Knees creaky after years of kneeling in prayer, offering up a lap, and climbing up the stairs for one more kiss goodnight. Almost forty-eight years of memories nestled in my heart. Memories of my father. Taking us to church each Sunday Building and fixing