Today I found myself doing some serious Facebook stalking. It wasn't of a girl I went to high school with, nor was it one of my boyfriend's exes. It was me. I Facebook stalked myself for a good 30 minutes. And why? To compare my past self with my present self in an effort to make my future self better.
At first glance, that seems harmless. And I completely thought it was. I thought it was totally an okay thing to do until I was basically balls deep in old pictures of myself. I was zooming in to check out my face, how white were my teeth, was my hair blonde enough, was it too blonde? I started obsessing over the way my legs and arms looked, and how I tilted my head when I was posing. And then I went even further... I started taking screen shots of the best pictures of myself, that way I could further analyze them and basically discover how to take the perfect picture of myself.
And then for whatever reason, I took a step back. I started to think that maybe this wasn't really good for me. And maybe it wasn't important how I used to look in comparison to how I look now. The pictures I was looking at weren't me and will never be a true representation of who I am. They can't show my ability to write. Those pictures can't tell anyone how funny I sometimes am. They don't know how kind and loving I am. Those pictures that I spent my time obsessing over, aren't me at all.
So many of my pictures are posed. I stopped having fun or doing whatever I was doing to pose and "make a memory." But in all actuality, those pictures aren't what I remember. I don't remember how my stomach looked in a swimsuit when I think back to the float trips I've been on. I remember how much fun I had and how sun burned I was by the end. The picture isn't the important part. A picture will never be an accurate representation of who I am or who I was. And of course, I can spend all my time obsessing over pictures of how I used to look and how I look now, but it's useless.
A picture isn't worth a thousand words, it's only a small snapshot of your life. And even though it can represent great memories, it didn't create them. I can't be defined by a picture. So who cares if my hair is a little lighter than it used to be, or something else as insignificant as that. It just doesn't matter. All that really matters is that I enjoy the moment I am in when I’m in it.
Maybe I’ll stop taking so many pictures, and start making a few more memories.
