Butt butt butt

This trip rekindled my love for photography and all things photographic. So expect a few more photos from my brain. (My spicy spicy brain.)

The Man is forever taking pictures of me walking away. Why? Because I am usually done looking and he's busy composing the perfect picture. Usually with me walking away in the hopes that he'll lose interest in the window. Apparently the perfect shot contains my rather voluminous derriere. I tease him and say that, it's because he has a thing for my ass. (Honestly who doesn't?)

The truth is that if I have the camera, I am the one lagging behind and taking photos of backsides. Just that men's clothing lends itself to hiding the buttal area. Girls stuff? Not so much. (Only thing I really miss about the 80s -- butt hiding apparel.)

Truth is, I'd almost rather it be my backside because I am the least photogenic person I know. There are many many snaps of my around and for the most part I look, well, Frankensteinian. For example:

(To be fair, we all look pretty awful in this picture, there were gale force winds and the rain hurt like hell. OH yeah, and it was cold.)

It's not that I don't like the way I look. I'm ok with it. I just don't like the way I look in pictures. It's like it sucks the life out of me and I look hideous. Good photos of me are few and far between. It takes a bit of patience. More than the average amateur photog has. Ask Michelle she has seen some BAD photos of me.

But once in a while there are snaps that are ok and I'm not left thinking -- wow, gravity is not being kind to my nose. (I read a study where they found that as you get older your nose gets longer because of gravity. I have been obsessed with my nose length ever since. My grandmother had a big nose. I reckon, it was button-sized when she was born.)

The Man took such a photo this weekend. And even though I am a bit squinty eyed in this one, there is something about this one I quite like. Messy hair, no make-up, somehow this one feels more like me.

Nat and her brain (not shown).