You Don't Want To Take My Picture

Because I won't remember. If you gathered all the photographs of me taken during my life, you'd have maybe half a shoebox. Okay, I'll be generous, a whole shoebox. Pathetic, isn't it, that a 32 year old woman would only have a few snatches of her past to look at. No one wants to take my picture.

My mother offers this excuse: "You always take more pictures of your first born." Yeah, until the second kid is born, then you take equal amounts. At least, most of the population of the earth operates that way. See, my mother never stopped. For every five pictures of my sister, there is maybe one of me. She's gotten a little better, but when my sister and her family visit my mother and father, it's Picture City. "Here's us eating, here's us getting into the car, here's us sitting and watching TV, here's us..." When my husband and I visit, there are maybe two or three pictures taken at the end of the trip in sort of an obligatory kind of way. My mother insists that we stand at attention, outside, facing the sun. Forgot the fact that cameras have advanced to the point of natural sunlight not being necessary, we have year after year of photo's with us all standing like squinting soldiers, and that's all I have.

Then there is my husband. I have told him, on many occasions, how important pictures are to me. But he doesn't like to have his picture taken. Thus, we have very few photo's. Birthdays, anniversaries, parties, holidays...years of special events have gone unrecorded because my husband doesn't like his picture taken. We have a $300 digital camera for nothing. We may as well have a disposable, it would last two years in our home. When I do ask about the camera, I usually get "Oh, the battery's dead," or "I forgot to grab it."

Why are pictures so important to me? Because my memory isn't the greatest. I want to be able to look back and remember certain times of my life. I like being reminded of events, hairstyles, and people who may no longer be a part of my life (sometimes, thankfully). Friends I no longer speak with, people who are no longer alive. I like having a record of myself and my life. I'm not going to look like this forever. When I'm old and wrinkled I want to see myself as a young woman. I want to remember trips I took and things I did. Is that so fucking awful? Am I asking for too damn much? Is it such a unbearable request?

I go to my sister's house and she has photo's all over the place. I'm so envious. They aren't photo's of special events, just everyday "Hey, we love each other" photos. My sister-in-laws have tons of pictures. It makes me want to cry that something so simple is out of my reach.

I've had to resort to taking pictures of myself. My arm is only so long. My husband found some and laughed at me for it. That really hurt. What am I supposed to do? I guess I have to resort to asking strangers to take my picture. I have modeled nude for more than one photographer because it's the only way I was going to get pictures that year. Not that I didn't want to do it, but c'mon! I shouldn't be this desperate.

Allow me a little pity party here; am I so unimportant? Am I so forgettable? Do I matter so little in your life that you don't care if you have any memory of me? Is that how much I'm worth?

Pity party over. Now I'm just tired. I'm tired of the whole thing. I'm going to get the camera, it's chips, the battery charger, and everything else from my husband and carry the damn thing around with me every minute of every day for the rest of my fucking life. I'll ask strangers to take my picture. I'll do the stretch-my-arm-out-and-hope-for-the-best thing. I'll make demands and become a real bitch about the whole thing because if I want my life recorded, that's what I'm going to have to do.