42

Every year on my birthday, I post an annual birthday picture. Some of you eagle-eyed readers may have already noticed my new photo because I switched out my sidebar blog photo with it… but here it is.

Me at 42:

If you feel like doing a little clicking, here is 41, 40, 39, 38, 37, and 36.

It’s kind of funny going back in time and comparing the photos — and this serves as a nice reminder for myself to NOT go back to that super dark brown haircolor I had at 36. I feel like over the years I’ve gotten more comfortable in both my skin and my style choices.

With that being said, each year I set up my tripod somewhere around my house and I use my remote shutter to snap away. When I load the photo choices onto my computer, it’s inevitable that I hate them all. My eyes look too tired, or one of them is too squinty, or I gained a few pounds and my face looks too round.

I sit there and beat myself up for all the little bits that make up a human.

Then, I move the photos that I absolutely hate into a “nope” folder and I’m usually left with two or three that are okay. And I look at them a bit and maybe I adjust the lighting on the photo (I NEVER photoshop myself) and I think…okay. I look nice. And I walk away from my computer to do something else, and then I come back later.

And I think, YUP. That’s Me. And I’m great. I’m healthy. And I’m happy.

And I’m 42.

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