Yesterday was the dreaded Picture Day at my daughter's school. I say "dreaded" for two reasons.
One is that my daughter is solidly "anti-grooming". She never lets me touch her head with a brush or comb. She doesn't let me wipe crumbs off her mouth, and it never seems to bother her that they're there. She picks outfits by how they feel on her body, not necessarily by how the colors go together (or don't). So yesterday's pictures were taken with her wearing a beautiful white sweater that I picked out--underneath a T-shirt that she picked out--and the remnants of a granola bar stuck to her bold smile. And the hair? Well, at least it was clean. That's all I can say.
The other reason I dread Picture Day is, of course, all about me. Oh, the memories of ill-fated picture days that come flooding back...like the time as a junior in high school that my eyes were half-closed in my yearbook picture, which many people gladly pointed out to me...or worse yet, the day I forgot I was having my senior pictures taken and had to run out the door without makeup (which I had no idea how to wear anyway) and a frumpy outfit I pulled from my mother's closet. My senior picture was so embarrassing to me that I almost didn't buy a high school yearbook. The other girls in my class looked like models, or at least looked their age. As usual, I was the extra-late bloomer who looked like a twelve-year-old in my picture. I looked like a Quaker, actually. I had some pantsuit on with a big white lace collar.
WHAT WAS I THINKING?!
So, naturally, my daughter's experiences are forcing me through the wormhole, back to relive my own school days. The shame of bad school pictures. The pressure to "look nice" on picture day.
As we waited in line outside the school yesterday morning before the bell, I saw the other girls in my daughter's class with their bows, curled hair, and shiny shoes. I wondered if my girl would feel the same inferiority and lack of femininity that I felt on my picture days. She did comment on their hair, but it was more like "Wow, that's different", instead of "Why don't I look like that?".
Once we got in the classroom, after fighting a losing battle with her over her unkempt hair and face, I almost threw my order form in the trash. I wasn't going to pay money for pictures of her if she didn't look nice and cute. (Again, we come back to the issue of "cuteness".)
But then an unbelievable sense of shallowness and shame actually stopped me in my tracks. For real. Why wouldn't I pay money for pictures of my baby? She's growing so fast, and whatever she ends up looking like in the photo, it's a chance to get a close up of her sitting still. And years from now, when she has learned to brush her hair, I will look back at these pictures and laugh over her quirkiness and boundless energy, her untainted sense of self, and her fearless way of living.
Why do we get all dressed up for pictures, anyway? Why don't we want to capture real life? Why do some people refuse to have their picture taken on Christmas morning because they are in their pajamas? (Okay, maybe I get that one. I guess it all depends on the type of pajamas, and the intended viewers of the photo...)
Who are the pictures for, after all? Do we only allow the best-dressed and prettiest to grace our mantles because others' opinions of the photos will reflect on us and our worth? Or am I thinking too hard about this? Is it just that we like, and deserve, special moments where we put on our best and capture a bit of magic?
Personally, I hate getting dolled up for photos. If you don't like how I look, that's your problem. I am who I am.
BUT...once I get them back I always wish I had take better care of my appearance. If I can't see the face I want every day in the mirror, at least let me have one picture, frozen in time, where I looked like a princess.
You see how conflicted I am about this. I don't want my daughter thinking that she has to change who she is for other people. And yet, I want her to feel lovely. Same old dilemma I have written about over and over.
At any rate, I ordered the pictures. I have no idea what I'll get, but I know they will be the most beautiful pictures any parent has ever seen.
