no pictures, please

Apparently, my dumb ass (is that one word or two?) computer will not let me post pictures to my blog. It's a real shame...not only did I have some amazing pics to post, but some great stories to go with said pictures. I would take a picture of the screen so you could see what I mean, but that's a mute point now. I asked Heather and she said there should be an icon underneath the publish part...mine has none. It says Compose, HTML, a drop down box for the font...you get the point. NO icon to upload pictures. I tried to use an ipad to do it, and of course the little icon was on there when I logged on, but I wasn't able to upload any pics. Maybe this is what I get for all the do-overs I take when a camera pokes it's wicked lense at me.










Hopefully, I will be able to post a picture someday and attach it to this post. Then, I can refer to the top paragraph as a "side-note".









My best friend, Lee, is an amazing photographer. He has the most creative point of view one could ever imagine. He takes pictures of everything....buildings, babies, adults, families...you get the idea. He even took an amazing picture of a brown bear pulling a salmon from the water in Alaska...see, this is where a picture would be helpful. You HAVE to see his work to understand. One night, we were hanging out and he got the camera out to take some candid pictures of me (which I love, btw). There was one picture that I absolutely fell in love with...mind you I had zero make up on, my hair was a mess and my clothes...well, I was comfortable as always.





















INSERT PICTURE HERE















I'm not going to talk about all the great pictures I have of myself, but there are a few...and by few, I mean several...quite possibly hundreds. But this picture did something for me, and here's why:









At that very moment in time, I can see myself at 40. I'm practically there. I'm 20+ pounds overweight. My boobs are too big and my hair is a constant mess. My laugh lines are growing deeper by the minute. The worry line that looks like a butt in the middle of my forehead is starting to show even when I'm not worrying. But my eyes...they remind me of who I was and who I've become with each passing year. I've fought damn hard for that stupid butt in my forehead and I've laughed till gasping for breath and peeing at the same time. I have scars that tell stories and marks that tell tales. I'm right HERE...and that, my friends, makes me beautiful.