Last time our family went to Yellowstone, I was beyond hideous in every picture. I guess I was thinking
Hey I'm in nature. I can be natural. But I had forgotten that the camera would be so active during my commune with nature.
This time I wasn't going to let the ugly be documented. I woke up early and actually fixed my hair and did my makeup. I was ready to be photographed.
At our first stop of the day I handed the camera to Rex then went and stood by the kids. I tried to be like,
I don't care if you take a picture of us. . . We're just sitting here acting natural. . . Just do what you feel is best. I thought for sure he would look at his lovely wife surrounded by his darling children all arranged on the rolling boulders and feel an inner urge to document the moment.
He walked right past us and started taking pictures of the waterfall. Feeling a little deflated I said, "Rex, do you think you could take a picture of us?"
He looked at me and said, "Sure, let me just take some of this waterfall first."
He cocked his head, angled the camera, took a picture. Took a step to the right, and shot the waterfall from that
totally different angle. Then he crouched down and took a shot from the lower angle. . .
Needless to say, by the time the waterfall (not even related to us btw) was fully documented, the children were long gone. They had all scattered and were exploring the hills. Didn't they know I was finally looking decent enough to have my picture taken?
By this time my long hair was blowing all over, whipping me in the face, and sticking to my lip gloss and the sun's glare was searing my eyes without the shade from my favorite hat. Beauty can be very uncomfortable, especially if you're not used to it, and I was really starting to reach my limit of beauty tolerance.
Rex, camera in hand, followed the kids up the trail to get a better view of the waterfall. (More waterfall!) Watching them exercise made me hungry.
I decided to go back to the car and eat. I found a peach and couldn't imagine how I would bite into it with all the lip gloss I was wearing, so I wiped it off. Then my hair kept getting blown into my mouth, so I pulled it back into its usual ponytail. And, finally, to block out the sun, I stuck on my hat.
The beauty was gone. It was back to the practical.
When the family returned, Rex handed me the camera and I got a picture of my post-beautiful self reflected in the car window.
The ugly was once again documented.
When I bought this pink dress, my children mocked me mercilessly. I thought maybe they just didn't know a good dress when they saw one. Then I wore it in public where I got vague, noncommittal, backhanded compliments like,
