Rejecting rejection; excluding exclusion

Have you ever experienced rejection or exclusion?

I have. So many times. And it hurts just as badly the 85th time it happens as the first.

I've been excluded from friend groups because I wasn't enough of whatever they were looking for.

I've been rejected by crushes because I didn't look a certain way.

I've been denied acting parts for which I auditioned for the same reason.

A client has told my boss to fire me because he didn't like my basic attitude in my work for him.

I've been told by a recoiling schoolmate, "You're so fat," accompanied by a disgusted look that told me my fatness carried with it my entire unworthiness to be in his sphere for any reason at any time.

I've been resented and ignored for weeks at a time by the person who was supposed to love me most.

I've been invited by church leaders who'd known me and worked with me for six years to leave the church because the means to my emotional wellbeing conflicted with their vision of God's holiness in my life.

I've been invited by a different church's leaders to consider leaving the church if I wasn't willing to submit to their teachings on not marrying an "unbeliever."

Those all hurt, but it's even worse to see my kids experience rejection and exclusion. 

With my older kid, I saw it in gymnastics. D was talented, but not "the same" as the other program participants. Their arms'-length treatment was overt.

With my younger kid, I see it when a potential new friend's parent asks me, "Oh, is your other child a boy or a girl?" and I can't give them a simple answer to their seemingly simple question.

Or when a woman at a playground asked for our phone number so her son could play with "your daughter," then I had to explain that he's actually a boy with long hair. She made no attempt to quiet her nonverbal "I'll never use this phone number."

To watch another human totally write off one of your kids is excruciating.

Everyone wants to belong somewhere. Everyone wants to be accepted for who they are. Everyone, even the most introverted, wants to have someone they can talk to, with whom they can be their genuine selves, and not have to filter out bits in order to avoid rejection.

Except for a couple of the examples above, most of the incidents I relay took place in "Christian" circles. At a private Christian school. In Christian churches. Christian parents trying to raise Christian children.

Of all of the places in the world, the safest should be someone's home. The next safest should be the church, if you choose to attend a church.

This weekend, our church's online service was one of the most comforting and indicative of who we are as a body that I've experienced in a long time. I'm going to share it here, because I think it's important. 

Some churches repeat the phrase, "God accepts you where you ware, but he doesn't want you to stay there." That's not unconditional love. You can get into the nuances about how, sure, ideally people grow and change and become better versions of themselves. But if God truly IS love, then that love is eternal and unchanging and complete and transcends any of our brokenness. 

Also, I'll be frank in that I used to know very securely what I believed, and I don't anymore. But if I believe anything, it's that everyone deserves to know that they're valuable and valid and welcome and cherished. And I know I can guarantee that for anyone who ever wants to visit our church (hopefully in person at some point next year, but you can join us online until then). 

For the rest of my life, I'll err on the side of love, if it turns out to be an error. I don't believe it is. 

A Midsummer Night's... Sweat

You guys! Things. Have. Been. Crazy!

Nope. That's an Amber Ruffin bit.

What I mean is that things have been HOT. Yes, since I blogged a couple of days ago, it has continued. The heat.

But we can't hibernate in the house forever, so I've been out and about working most of the week so far.

Monday morning at 1:18 AM, I was awakened by... something. James was still awake (he had Monday off) and we met up in the living room. I asked him what that sound was, and he didn't know. As he looked out the front window, I looked out the side. It sounded vaguely like someone was running around on our wooden porch.

James saw a GIANT branch from our chinaberry tree go rolling off of the roof.

First, chinaberries drop limbs ALL of the time. Second, it's been dry, so I'm sure this one is parched as heck. Third, it SNAPPED. And the branch was huge.

I was pleased to find in daylight that our gutters had held, although I'm sure I need to go back and clean them again, even though I just did it maybe a month and a half ago.

Monday afternoon was overcast, and I took advantage of the shade to cut apart the branches to a manageable weight so I could move it off of the masonry. The branch did take out a chunk out of the top of one of the open patio posts, but it's only visible from the house side.

I ended up cutting three more iffy branches from the tree before I was done. Then I was DONE.

Kind of cool how so much of the growth was to one side of the tree. All of the cuts look like this.

Tuesday morning, Mal's friend's mom texted me to see if we wanted to meet them at the lake. Mal hopped in the wagon and we walked down there. It was only 10:30, so hadn't gotten up to 100 yet, but it hit that about the time we were coming home just before noon.

Mal, his friend, and his friend's brother had fun chatting about Minecraft and we moms had fun visiting with a grown-up who doesn't live in our house (hashtag social distancing).

Walking back up the hill from the lake required three water breaks for me. Mal plus the wagon is about 80 pounds, and even though the tires are AWESOME, it's still quite the work-out.

Then yesterday, we stayed in most of the day and Mal and I went on a walk once the sun started to go down. We looked at all of the construction going on around the neighborhood, and really enjoyed places where there are still just trees. We also saw this happy touch that's been on top of a nearby mailbox for months.

When we got home, I watered our poor apple trees (if they don't make it through the winter unscathed, and we pull them up next spring, we'll probably put in wicking beds instead and just plant gardens).

And, no, that's not gravel all over the yard. It's dormant grass. When we had our solar panels put on last year, one of the installers said, "You're going to have to re-sod this." I laughed and told him it was never sodded. It's just what's here naturally, and by October, it's going to need to be mowed again. It stays green all winter and goes back to sleep in June. Keeps our lawn guy (and me) from having to mow in the hottest part of the summer!

Then today, Thursday, I went to pick up a couple of rain barrels that we bought for half price through the Round Rock water district. Woo hoo! I was going to wait until it was evening to install them, but procrastinating is difficult for me.

Today was hot, but dry for a change. We've hit 100 every day for several weeks now, but this morning, we broke the record low for the day! The Austin airport registered 63 degrees, and I happened to be awake early so opened up the house for a couple of hours.

It could have been a worse day to set these puppies up, and I'm glad that I got it finished in time for a nice cool shower before dinner.

Now we just wait for it to rain! In December, maybe?

Here's hoping for a lazy Friday to round out a physically exhausting (in a good way!) week.

Have a good weekend, weird-os!

August 6 Quarantine update, I guess?

I wrote this on August 6 and forgot to post it...

This is a picture I took a couple of days ago, when Mal was riding his scooter on the porch because sun=heatstroke right now but I wanted to be outside for a bit.

Eeeep, can you even?

Anyway, a couple of things: Because we've been home for so long, I don't think Mal can wear clothes anymore. When we go out and he dresses, he immediately talks about how his pants are "too tight." I've bought him bigger pants, and then gotten rid of all of THOSE and made sure that ALL I bought was super soft sport-type shorts, but he still complains. What I think he means is "these have a defined waistband, and I am used to running around in underpants, as god intended." When we get home from an outing, the first thing he does is denude himself down to said boxer briefs.

Also, I think he got a spider bite that day because he has a welt on his belly that I thought was a mosquito bite, but it grew yesterday. I'm not super worried, but we're keeping an eye on it.

Mal has also gotten so used to being home that any time we have to get out for ANY reason, even if it's something he likes like going to a park because we know a friend will be there, he says, "I am tired of this stressful stuff; I need a nice, relaxing day at home." Like every other day for the past five months? But I would much prefer his being a homebody right now than crying every day that he can't see friends or go to the trampoline park.

Speaking of that, we did try to go to a trampoline park last week. I won't name it because they're trying their best, but it just doesn't work with the masks. I support mask-wearing! I think it's our only hope right now, as we don't have adequate testing; but I think we'll just stay home until it's safe to exercise indoors without masks.

At this park, you have to make advanced reservations, and you can only stay for two hours. That's not a problem for us, because Mal is more an "I've been here ten minutes and that was fun; let's go home now" kind of kid. Also, we have a monthly membership to this place, so whether we stay 5 minutes or all day, it costs the same. I guess those fees will just be donations to keep some kids employed right now, and I'm fine with that.

I guess I forgot to update here, but Mal went to the pediatric gastroenterologist a couple of weeks ago, and we've managed to get him cleaned out. I won't detail the experience, but we've used just almost every product available for that kind of thing. Some of them twice. And we still have a long road before he has a "normal" digestive system, but it's nice to know that he's not so compacted and backed up.

One motivation for working as hard as we have (Mal's really been a trooper, even as he's been tired and frustrated with the extremely long process) is that the next step to help him would be an outpatient procedure that isn't risky or anything (I mean, we've done anesthesia once, and that was the only good part about his dental work), but that you have to get a COVID screening beforehand. When I'd talked to the doctor last month during a setback, I told him I'd rather wait until screening wasn't mandatory before we tried that, he said, "It'll be at least a year. It's going to be around for a very long time."

I mean, I guess I knew that, but to hear it out loud...

Anyway, we're all working hard to avoid a hospital outpatient procedure. Mal's working hard to avoid another suppository. Twice now, when we've reached the end of where we can wait, he managed to will himself to go, so last night (August 15; I'm finishing this paragraph up so I can post the blog!) we had a little come-to-Jesus moment about it. I told him if he was able to work that hard under threat (not threat; real intent to use) of a suppository, I need him to work that hard all of the time. I do not relish getting him so upset and panicky about something that he's crying and begging and then manages to avert it. I'd rather not have to get to that point. My heart can't take much more of it!

In a final update, the trampoline park (not the one I mentioned above) where Mal had his 5th birthday party just permanently closed. I'm sad for them and for Mal. But since we have a membership to the other place, that's likely where we'd go rather than paying by the hour, anyway. Also, the other park agreed to pause our membership for three more months. We don't go back until the mask mandate is over, but at least that buys us 92 extra days on the end of the annual contract.

Throes of Summer (AKA Pit o'Hell)

In the past month, James has blogged more than I have! Can you believe it?

I keep thinking of things to write, but once I get a few minutes to sit with my computer and my thoughts, I just want to veg. I want to watch "The Story of God" on Netflix, or some late show bits on YouTube.

Because my brain is fried, ladtlemen and gens.

First, there's the fact that we're closing out our second full week of +100 degree temperatures. Our grass is crunchy, the lake is so low that they've closed the first dock, and I'm watering our poor sad fruit trees every dang day. Actually, the fig tree looks fine; the apples are iffy. If they don't make it through to this fall, I think we should pull them out and get something better suited to this area of Texas, like volcanoes or flame-throwers or something. I guess just because they sell a particular tree at a local nursery doesn't mean you can actually expect to grow them here. Sigh. We're $120 in at this point, and I'm not replacing them if they don't both make it... and you do need two apple trees for at least one apple tree to be healthy and produce the best fruit. At this rate, if we ever do get real apples, they'll probably look like those projects we did in elementary school where you carve a face in an apple and then "shrink" it through dehydration. Anyway, heat = shrunken BRAIN.

Second, I have an extremely high-energy, high-needs 5-year-old who is either talking, singing, or making sound effects literally every waking moment. I have difficulty thinking whole thoughts, much less getting out an entire sentence most days. I remember thinking, when D was this age, that my brain might melt toward the end of the day. And that child went to bed at 7 PM and got up at 7 AM. My second goes to bed between 11:30 and midnight and wakes up anywhere from 9 to 10 AM. So he's getting markedly less bed time than D did. My applesauce noggin feels it. Also, I'm repeating a theme from above totally unintentionally because my head can't bother itself to think of another example.

Third, everyone seems to have at least a little pandemic fog. We're still being pretty insular, staying in and seeing few people. We've seen my immediate family somewhat regularly, and have met a friend or two at a park. But the park stuff is over with for a while, until we can go out without turning into puddles of goo. Today I saw that a guy who works construction here in Austin drinks 2 gallons of water a day at his job, and he never has to go to the restroom. So that's what we're dealing with heat-wise (which, I know, I've already mentioned; but that's one reason we've curtailed even MORE what we were doing two months ago). School (such as it is) has mostly started back, so the public pools are closed. (Actually, a splash pad is open but you have to make reservations, and I just booked Mal a two-hour window for a week from tomorrow. That's how desperate people are to get out and do stuff like this.)

Basically, everything is a little more repetitive than usual. We're super fortunate: James is still working, none of us has gotten sick. We're fine. But the days bleed into each other with no major difference in them.  It can get kind of "meh," even as I acknowledge that we've only been inconvenienced and not truly put out, let alone harmed. But there have been numerous articles detailing this common "pandemic brain fog" experience. They seem confident that this will all pass once we're back to "normal," but no one knows when that will be. 

In related news, the city of Austin and Travis County (I live in the latter but not the former) just extended the mask mandate through December 15. I'm sure this is to cover the first semester of in-person schools, and our numbers are still high enough that I absolutely get it! But it seems SO far away. 

After the State Fair of Texas canceled for this fall, I planned an alternate little road trip, since James already requested time off. (He'd requested off for April and just canceled that since no one was going anywhere in April.) I decided to assume everything would still be operating weirdly and planned most things for outside. The one thing I did tag as a "maybe" was the Science Mill in Johnson City, but I think I'll pull that and we can visit again when we don't have to wear masks. I might feel differently when it's not 412 degrees, but just waiting to checkout at the grocery store yesterday, I was so warm and steamy in my breathe-holes that I felt intense pity for the people who work 8 hours a day and have to breathe into those things. 

As an aside, it's completely ridiculous that the wearing of masks has become a politicized issue. First, this:

That's pretty simple. Masks 1) keep some droplets from getting away from you and 2) slows the momentum of the droplets that DO get out. So until we know what's going on (and the better part of a year into this, we still don't), it's one of the easiest and most effective ways to keep others safe (hopefully they're also keeping YOU safe). 

Anyway, all of that to say that I'm glad that there are mask mandates. Before the cities and states had legal mandates, it was harder for stores to enforce their company policies. In case you're reading this in 2030 and don't have much context, look up "people freaking out over wearing a mask." People are yelling, attacking retail workers, committing vandalism, shooting into stores, and generally seem to believe that somehow their civil rights are being violated by being asked to have a little responsibility in this effort to curb the spread of COVID-19 until we can get a vaccine/herd immunity.

Even with governing authorities coming around to put some teeth in mask orders (our governor resisted for a long time, even prohibiting local authorities from enforcing mask-wearing with any kind of penalty at all after an initial warning; but eventually Texas became a hotspot and I think he realized he had to do something), people are still losing their minds over being required to wear a mask or leave. It's embarrassing. I'm embarrassed for them.

I recently watched a video where a lady was running around a Trader Joe's calling everyone else there "sheep" for wearing masks. Well, I'm sorry, but why did YOU decide NOT to wear a mask? That wasn't just your independent idea. She's talking about breathing her on CO2, which she definitely heard somewhere. And I think people genuinely wouldn't be as angry if they didn't believe the mask stuff was some kind of power grab by the government. But they are getting that idea somewhere. We're all following someone; we just choose different sources as credible.

All of that to say, I HATE wearing a mask. Especially the one time I got out wearing my glasses. It's just hot and uncomfortable and as much as I love going places with Mal, I'll almost always leave him home because trying to manage myself AND continue putting his mask back on him over and over (he can't seem to figure it out) is exhausting. 

It's kind of funny that I felt the need to post a vehement defense of wearing masks before I said that I personally hate it. But that's because of how heated this has gotten politically. I absolutely agree that wearing masks masks us safer as a community. And they're uncomfortable and I will be happy when we don't have to anymore.

Also, I know... many Asian people wear masks as a habit when they go out. I'll say they're made of stronger stuff than I am. Amen and amen.

Finally: This weekend is my 8th Austinversary. I cannot express enough my absolute joy that I moved here and met the people I've met and live where I live now. Sometimes, I come across news or bits of a conversation from people I used to know, and places I used to frequent, and I wonder if I'd still be "the same" if I hadn't left. I feel like I've grown as a person an incredible amount in the past few years, and so much of that has been the influence of this place. I don't know exactly how to explain it, except that I've seen examples of people genuinely trying to be the best versions of themselves and encouraging me to do the same. But I could stand it without the heat.

Kenya cancelled their school year

This started in another slack thread at work.

It was triggered by a story about Kenya cancelling their school year.

A lot of people in the thread that followed are worried about the implications for their children. How do you motivate your teenagers to focus on the difficult subjects when they could be playing video games instead? What is this isolation doing to their social skills? Are they doing enough to prep their 2 year old for kindergarten?

People are worried about prepping for kindergarten!

We have a friend who recently got their kid's online school schedule. They have it mapped out, in 15 minute increments, from 8:15 to 3:15. He's supposed to be on Zoom, with the rest of his class, the entire time.The day they got it, he read 2 books because he wanted to. His mom is positive that he will not sit still for 2 hours doing popsicle stick crafts (which happens in the first day or so). This is for kindergarten!

I don't have any idea what conditions are like in Kenya. My thoughts and opinions don't really apply there, since I have absolutely zero context.

In the US, schools were specifically designed to mold people into good factory workers. Yes, that's an oversimplification. But still. Obey orders. Stand in line. Be where you're supposed to, on time. Learn the things we care about, even if they're boring and ultimately pointless.

For some children, they do provide needed relief from homes where they don't get the love and safety they need. For others, it's their only chance to get anything that resembles a nutritious meal.

For most Americans, I'm convinced that it's just day care that's been subsidized by tax payers. It's a way to keep our children out of the way while we go about the seemingly important tasks that keep the economic wheels spinning. I reached this brilliant conclusion while I was bored out of my mind with high school, and I haven't seen anything to change my mind since.

My family is in a good place because we deliberately chose to live beneath our means so my partner can focus on parenting full time.

My little one could have started kindergarten this year. It would have been a terrible thing to do with him, even without all the risks involved in covid. There is no way he could sit still and do what someone else wants for hours at a time. Trying to force him into that mold would crush his spirit and destroy the wilful and independent person we want him to be.

I'm not saying that school is bad, or that it's wrong for your kid, or anything like that.

I want my medical doctor to have the kind of expertise that you get through years of intense study and expert guidance. And I want that doctor to have the expertise checked by other experts.

I've had multiple experiences that demonstrate that, even with that sort of training and checking, dentists can mess up badly. I'm pretty sure Mal has a new cavity in the tooth that broke when the needless cap fell off.

Someone who's building a massive bridge that's going to handle a lot of traffic needs a lot of formal education. Well, reportedly, any fool can design a solid bridge. But it takes a serious engineer to design a bridge that's "just solid enough." And yet there was the Tacoma Narrows bridge collapse.

Anyway, a formal education is a prerequisite for certain jobs. But it isn't a guarantee that person who received the education will actually be good at that job.

And, for most jobs, that formal education really wasn't needed. And a lot of it was pointless.

The journalism classes my brother took in college have absolutely zero impact on his daily job. But those were some of his favorite classes, and they shape the way he interprets the news.

My high school started offering AP calculus when I got to my senior year. I really enjoyed that class. I've even found a few excuses to use the slope of a curve. But it really doesn't have anything to do with my daily life.

My daily life is heavily impacted by the things I learned by myself about programming computers. I did take a few classes, but mostly they didn't teach me anything I didn't already know. And the new things I did learn just are not relevant any more (except for vi, and we could have long flame wars about that).

What would be so wrong about letting kids pursue their own interests? If your kid would rather play video games than study IB physics...well, in the big scheme of things, how important is IB physics?

I can't even remember the definition for momentum. I think I remember why balls bounce off walls, but I'm not sure. And this knowledge that I've forgotten doesn't really matter, even though I did enjoy physics class.

And, well, playing with sail boats at science museums really helped me understand all that gibberish I had to memorize about adding vectors together.

I'm told that schools are super-competitive now. You have to make sure your kid does good in kindergarten so they can get into the right prep school to get into a good college to guarantee that they'll have a better income than the poor people who weren't going to be able to afford college in the first place.

Or you could focus on developing your relationship with your child. They're little information sponges. They are going to learn the important things, no matter what you do. If an institutionalized school doesn't crush the love of learning out of them, it may even turn out that they wind up learning things (possibly in a classroom) that actually lead to some sort of career that they love.

Or maybe not. Maybe they'll wind up in some pointless job that leaves them perfectly content to work 8 to 5 and then go home and forget about it, because that's just enough to give them the means to do whatever it is they really love.

The basic fact that people need to waste some much of our lives doing something we don't care about in order to be able to eat and get out of the elements is a broader topic for a different day.

I'm sure your pre-kindergartener will be fine. 40 years from now, I bet they'll be happier if they think back and remember playing catch with you instead of lessons where you use flash cards to teach them colors.

Or whatever it is that people do for kindergarten prep. That's something that I've never spent any time researching.

Photography and Sense of Self

The week before last, my dad started singing, "There's No Business Like Show Business," for some reason. It reminded me of the summer after I was in the 6th grade, when I was in a show at the King Opera House in Van Buren, AR. It was an all-ages musical review, loosely tied together with some flimsy narrative that I'm sure was pretty terrible.

For my bit, we kids were supposed to be siblings in a giant family. The lady who played our mom was actually extremely pregnant at the time. Someone had gotten a good deal on this bright pink fabric with blue... hippos? elephants? on it, and we all had some element of our costume made out of it. Mine was a flouncy-sleeved blouse, a littler girl had a dress, a male friend had a button-up shirt, the pregnant lady had a maternity jumper dress.

At one point in the show, my parents had bought me some cotton candy, and I was standing in the alley behind the opera house waiting for my cue. My dad took a picture, and I remember thinking how awesome my life was: I was getting to be in a real show (not school-related!), and I was eating cotton candy, and did life get any better than that?

Time passed, as we had to fill up the entire roll of film and then wait for it to be developed. You kids might not know what I'm talking about, but it could sometimes be months after a photo was taken before you could see it.

This is that picture.

As an adult, I think that's a super cute picture that captures a very fun time in my life. I believe the person standing partially in the frame is my friend and classmate Anna Williams; I think she was in a different part of the show than I was, but she has a body suit on in the same colors (there were blue sequins across the front).

As a kid seeing this photo of myself, I was heart-broken. I saw a fat (??!!?!?!!??) dork with huge glasses and frizzy hair that looked nothing like Amanda King's! (I'd gotten my long, straight hair cut off and a spiral perm so I could resemble Kate Jackson's iconic character, not realizing that I could not possibly have feathered hair without using styling implements, and I did not have the hardware nor the skills to pull that off.) I didn't even notice the farmer's tan at the time. I guess I didn't wear sleeveless tops as a kid.

This picture was absolute devastation to me at the time, and it was years -- decades, probably -- before I ever wanted to look at it again. For a long period, the photos associated with this program tainted its memory for me. I'm very sad about that part. I wish there were a way to go back and repair that.

It wasn't, however, the first time a picture of me had conflicted to strongly with my self-view. I vividly remember the first one, and it was years before this.

I was in second grade, and I was having a pretty good hair day. I'd grown my hair out extremely long, and had it cut by my Pepa, who was a barber. He'd cut my hair Dorothy-Hamill-short, and I didn't hate it, but once it started growing back out, I started to feel almost glamorous.

One night, after I was dressed for bed, I put on a bunch of my mom's necklaces and she let me wear some make-up, as well. I asked for her to take a picture of me as a model. In my brain was probably Brooke Sheilds. 

This, however, is the picture we got.

I forgive you for laughing, truly I do.

Again, I see now that this is precious. When I was seven, it made me HATE... something. I don't know what. Probably myself, or my self-denial. I couldn't even have put a name on the dissonance here, but when my mom took the picture, I felt pretty. When I saw it, I knew this wasn't even remotely close to what was in the magazines. 

I didn't even know what a "double chin" was, but for a long time wondered why my mom hadn't told me to lift my head up a little bit... but of course she didn't. You don't tell a child how to pose to eliminate that kind of thing because it is vapid and cruel, even if you mean well.

Growing up, I really liked myself. I thought I was neat, and talented, and even pretty at times. I got the message that I wasn't quite as ++something++ as other girls, but I liked my individuality. Heck, I even tried out for "Man in the Moon," Reese Witherspoon's debut film at the age of 14, when they did a southern open casting tour. I mean, who did I think I was? I thought I was something, but clearly "the world" didn't perceive me as I perceived myself. Even the camera didn't.

As I have been thinking about this, it has helped me be a lot more understanding as to why D doesn't like to look at old pictures. For me, those pictures are super happy memories of my kid's growing up. For D, they're jarring and upsetting. And I get this on some level.

Both of the above pictures were before I ever thought of going on a diet, even though I knew that I was fatter than other girls my age. I'm extremely grateful that dieting and weight loss wasn't a part of my life before I went to college. I might have detested the way I looked, but I guess it seemed like Weight Watchers and Herbalife supplements were something grown-ups did. Thank god there wasn't WW Kurbo when I was in elementary school.

Also, every picture I view from when I was a minor reveals that I was never as "fat" as I thought I was, even though I was definitely told I was fat from the time I was in junior high on up; and, obviously, now I realize that even if I'd been the giant tub I thought I was, that would have been fine and people shouldn't make anyone feel unworthy as a person because they aren't... whatever it is that people want people to look like in the moment.

I've mentioned that recently, it's hard to look at pictures of me as my body ages and changes. However, I've learned my lessons about this kind of thing. If I could have destroyed the above pictures in real time, I likely would have. My parents would have killed me, though, because they were irreplaceable and expensive. With the advent of digital photography, however, I've disposed of plenty of pictures, including one I regret to the extreme.

When we lived in Sherman, one morning D had gotten up super early when I was still in bed. We'd fallen back to sleep together, and Ken thought it was a cute little scene, so he took a picture with my camera. D was probably around 5 at the time, and it was a year or so into when I'd lost a substantial amount of weight.

I found the picture on my camera, though, and I HATED the way my jowls looked because of how I was lying. Without a second thought, I deleted the picture. I wish so much that I had it now. What a precious time.

A few years ago when a photographer friend of mine came to visit our "new" house, we walked to the lake, and she snapped a picture of Mal and me from below as we made our way down the rocks to the water line. That picture is SO unflattering of me. It's just bad. It's bad enough that I'm not sharing it here, because I still HATE that it makes me look like I'm 4 feet tall (I'm 5'6" or 7") and that I'm wearing rubber bands in several locations across my abdomen. It's very upsetting.

But because I'm getting smarter, I saved the picture. Someday, I'll probably love it. It's been three years and I still hate it, but some day...

Also, we don't have to dress or pose in ways that are "flattering." "Flattering" almost always means "makes you look skinnier," and it's a super dumb standard. I know this intellectually. I believe it spiritually. But that dissonance when you see a picture of yourself that isn't how you feel you are on any level is so distressing.

I get why people say, "I just feel better when I weigh a little less" (than what?). There were several years when I could easily look at pictures of myself and think, "Cute!" The first time that the "Ick, what?!" returned was in early 2012, when still weighed a lot less than I do now, and I'd fixed up for a formal event where they took professional portraits. Seeing the picture was devastating because I had felt so elegant and beautiful all night, then felt frumpy and "Well, you tried" after that.

In fact, I ran across this picture from this time 9 years ago (2011), when a friend and I visited Austin for the first time. Here's the picture I shared of our delicious stop at Taste of Ethiopia (same place, different location, as where James and I got take-out on 4th of July weekend this year!).

I had cropped it a bit to "get rid of the white space," but the real reason I cropped it is that I didn't like the "bulges" at my general belly area.

HA! Bulges. Man. What a waste of energy and self-hate.

But the cure for this wasn't to lose MORE weight, because no matter how much weight I lost, I still felt like I was bigger than the average person, and it was a constant battle to stay that size. I thought I was doing the hard stuff, working out all of the time and carefully monitoring what I put in my mouth. Truth is, the much harder work is figuring out why an image of yourself can make you mad at yourself and generate self-loathing.

Excising fatphobia is an ongoing work, but it has made me healthier and happier and better able to be present for my family. I'm still working on being able to truly appreciate pictures of myself. I think that's probably even a little bit better than thinking, "Whoo, I'm hot sh!t!" because I've acted in very self-absorbed ways when I felt like this.

Also, know that you're the only one examining your pictures as critically as you are (unless you're a social media influencer or celebrity, and I can't imagine the BS that comes with that; people really feel entitled to notice and remark on EVERYTHING then). Never delete pictures! And don't let your happiness or self-worth hinge on your captured appearance. The way you feel is the true you. Be that guy.