Photeugenic

Some people photograph well. I am not one of them. I had every intention of blowing off the new church photo directory, but the secretary called in her SWAT team and I was taken by the arm (resistance is futile, remember) and dragged over to the sign-up sheet. So I thought I'd be a good sport and go along. Mis. Take. Did my best imitation of a pleasant, friendly smile for the camera, and the result looked like Don Knotts playing an axe murderer. How any human face can succeed in resembling both a hamster and a bullfrog at the same time is beyond me. I was particularly taken aback by the maniacal eyes. Horrifying. I was, once again, forcibly reminded of the reason for my aversion to being photographed. Years ago I would have flung myself onto my bed and sobbed for hours, but having discovered that said hours of sobbing do nothing to enhance an appearance that already qualifies as objectionable, I gave that up. I did feel vaguely nauseous for a while, though. I'm grateful that none of my kids got visited by the Ugly Fairy in their cradles.

And so the challenge is once again before me, of rebuilding my shattered self-image and, to make it resilient, basing it not on what I or others see with eyes, but what God sees. And what might that be? "Beauty instead of ashes, the oil of gladness instead of mourning, and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair." Not only that, but "Charm is deceptive, and beauty is fleeting; but a woman who fears the Lord is to be praised."

Works for me.