If you haven't heard of...

... Stephanie Nielson, or read this article telling her story, I suggest you take the time to do so. It's an amazing, heartbreaking story.

You can read more about Stephanie on her blog.

Yes...

I do still enjoy writing my name in pretzels.

Evidence

Once upon a time there was a super adorable little girl who always looked super adorable in pictures. This little girl was me. Evidence: I have proof. At my house. At this moment. It's not digital, so I can't link to it. {But believe me, I was the epitome of cute when I was a kid.}

Around 11 I got tall and awkward and gangly, my hair was a frizz-mess and I wore huge bug-eye glasses. I looked... sogross. And I knew it. I hated having my picture taken. Evidence: I'm not going to show you. It's way too embarrassing.

Slowly, ever so slowly, over a period of years and years and years, I learned the art of personal hygiene. I discovered daily showers and contacts and straighteners and makeup {ah, the wonders of concealer and blush, without which I would absolutely resemble a zombie}. I looked somuchbetter in real life. I looked good enough that Christian decided he wanted to look at my gorgeous face every day {!!}. My picture-taking smile, however, still needed work. Evidence: 1,000 wedding pictures. I have this genetically inherited flaw where my smile pulls up on one side, creating a not-so-attractive sneer. Blerg.

Just a few months ago, I was victorious. I defeated the sneer. Finally finally finally. I was applying liberal amounts of blush to my face one day {just a few months ago, as I have already stated}, specifically to the apples of my cheeks -- that's what Carmindy of What Not to Wear always tells me to do -- and I just got it. I make a certain face when preparing my cheeks to receive their daily paint, and I thought, if I make this face and then smile, that would be a pretty good-looking smile. So I tried it. And it worked. Evidence: family picture 2009. Look at those two pictures and try to tell me I don't look smokin'. It won't work. Because I do. I do look smokin'.

Apparently, though, my picture-taking smile, along with my general photogenic-ness, is still a work in progress. Evidence:





Christian took this {so. freaking. awful.} series of pictures of me at Lara's 2nd birthday party last Friday. He laughed hysterically. I hung my head in shame. {Number four up there is particularly disturbing. Why would anyone ever make that face?} And then I decided to post them on my blog. Because I know, as should everyone reading this blog, that...

It's important to be able to laugh at yourself.


Moral delivered.