on not liking what I see

Last week while at the cottage, over many glasses of wine one night, we pulled out the family photos. Are you familiar with this family ritual, or is it just specific to mine? We started looking at the photo albums that chronicle my parents' marriage and their four children, at various stages and in various homes throughout the 70s, 80s, 90s, and present. There are the requisite first steps and Jolly Jumper shots, the teen years of sourness and smirks, and the more recent years of marriages and grandchildren. We reminisced and giggled at bad hairstyles and boyfriends and girlfriends come and gone. Amidst the laughter and the yelling ('cause it ain't a get together with my family without the yelling), something became really clear to me. Something that has been simmering beneath the surface with me, bugging me like a hard-to-reach itch that has bothered me for years: I hate looking at myself in photos. As in truly truly HATE it.

The main problem is that I am apparently unable to look human in most photos. And if I manage to look human, then I almost always look uncomfortable or pissed. The worst ones are the group-posed ones, where I try to smile. It's like I am just not made for photos. My sister and I were joking about how she always looked as if she stepped out of Gap ad in the family photos and I was the one constantly scowling with a dark cloud over my head. And while it certainly made me laugh at the time, it also makes me feel somehow disappointed in myself. I can't quite explain it properly, but goddamn it doesn't feel good.

A few years ago when I first teamed up with my business partner we had some corporate photos done of us while on a trip to Banff. Picture it: the mountains as backdrop and two grinning women posing in their proud black suits. Should have been picture-perfect, except once again I had a hard time mastering a smile. I warned the photographer ahead of time, saying "I don't know how to take good photos, and I always look uncomfortable." And he was all "oh you'll be fine" until he realised 50 shots in that I really REALLY can't do photos. At one point I was perched awkwardly on a ledge at the beautiful Banff Springs hotel, overlooking the glorious mountains, trying to pull off a natural smile but looking as if I was sitting on hot burning coals. "what is WRONG with you" the exasperated photographer kept asking me, "just RELAX", he of so much encouragement only minutes earlier. If only it were that easy for me.

This dislike of seeing myself in pictures has also intensified since I gained some weight after having my daughter. I have been able to get most of it off now, but it's like I gained an unhappy voice in my head along with it and now I can't get rid of it.

It's not like I don't know how to laugh and giggle and generally have fun in social situations (despite this stupid moniker I gave myself on a whim one night - CrabbyKate - I'm not always that crabby). Perhaps it's the permanence of photos, the fact that forever in time is locked a picture of me looking uncomfortable. I prefer to remember the memories as they play out in my mind, instead of having a permanent record of me looking ill at ease.

The absolute worst part of this is that I don't have that many pictures of Alice and I together. I have a few - a few that I cherish and hold close - but not the hundreds and hundreds that other mommies I know have. I realise this is unhealthy - I hate this and I truly wish I did not care. "But you look great" Matt tells me. "And how beautiful is any picture of a mother and daughter." But I can't bear to see myself looking awkward and unhappy, not in a picture with her. She is everything happy about me, everything good and everything beautiful. And I can't stand to have her so close to something that has become agonizing to me.

I hesitated to write this post, as it is almost too revealing for me. I had to get this out, though, no matter how exposed I will feel. Maybe by writing this I will come to see how ridiculous the whole neurosis is. Something has to give, because I most definitely do not want to pass this on to Alice.