I am seriously failing on Snapchat. This summer a friend of mine introduced the girls to snapchat features and filters. They were at a work event for my husband and she had the kids make funny snaps to keep them occupied. Afterwards, I downloaded the app but I never actually got around to using it.
After a day spent dividing my attention (and the kids would argue, doing an inadequate job at it) I got off of my feet and snuggled into Little Sister’s bed. I figured then would be as good of a time as any to figure out how to do Snapchat. But I quickly remember why I hadn’t figured it out earlier…It was difficult.
My daughter tried to take a few pictures of me and of the two of us together but we couldn’t see the end results for some reason. Then the dog started to bark and the telephone rang and I totally forgot about it. That is, until I checked my text messages a few hours later.
It is then that I encountered one of the worst pictures I have ever seen of myself. My hair was greasy and somewhat crazed, my eyes looked like they belonged on two different people and every pore on my face seemed magnified and clogged. It looked a lot like I imagined my mug shot would look if my life had taken a different turn. My nose seemed to be four dimensional and ruddy and one of my eyes had a bag under it. Yep, even my under eye bags refused to be photographed with any sort of symmetry.
Underneath the photo my B.F.F. had written simply “This is what you want on your story”? If I wasn’t blogging semi-anonymously I would have included it because it really was that bad. I admitted no, it wasn’t. To which she helpfully replied “You look like you just killed someone” and truth be told, she wasn’t wrong.
But it got me thinking about how just moments before I had taken that photo I had in fact looked just like that. It hadn’t bothered me or scared my children. My husband hadn’t recoiled in horror the way I sort of did when faced with the photographic evidence. So, what had changed?
I had changed. If the photo had been becoming I wouldn’t have looked at it twice. I might have offered a halfhearted “meh, it must have been a good angle, lighting, etc.”. But I can assure you that hours later I wouldn’t have been thinking about it.
It took an unflattering picture for me to feel beautiful tonight. The tearing myself down and bemoaning my wrinkles or freckles or breakouts or other imperfections doesn’t propel me to make positive changes. I have tried it. I am going to say that maybe I am failing at the biore strips or anti-aging cream applications or Snapchat but I am not failing at life. I am showing up and taking the good with the bad and the easy alongside the unendingly difficult and there is no filter for that.