No matter what.
Right?
I got home yesterday afternoon. After throwing myself into laundry, and unpacking, and eventually heading off to the first night of boot camp (yes, I did sign myself up for a boot camp class that started the same day I spent 7+ hours flying home to Alaska - don't be jealous), I pretty much crashed last night. Then today was an unbelievably busy day at work as I played catch-up and tried to put the finishing touches on a project I want to present this week.
I tell you all this only to say - my brain is fried. I had a blast on my trip to Arizona, but was surrounded by a million people at all times and never really had a chance to pop open my laptop. Now I'm home, and all I want to do is curl up into bed and watch Horrible Bosses.
My brain is fried, and while I have a ton of stories to tell from my trip - I just can't manage to complete a single thought for long enough now to actually tell any of them.
Can you tell?
So instead, I'll just let you know what a good friend my dear DV is.
The boy who always tells me the truth.
No matter what.
When we took those family photos on Saturday, the photographer asked if I would be willing to let her take pictures of my tattoos. Separate from the family photos of course.
She is a new(ish) photographer (a family friend), and said she had been wanting to do some tattoo photographs for a while.
Me being such a fan of my tattoos anyway - I of course agreed.
In fact, I was pretty pumped that she had any interest in them at all.
So far she has only been able to edit a few of the photos (after an almost 2 hour session - you can bet there are a few hundred more still to come), but one of the first she finished up was that photo of my tattoos.
I got it and simultaneously grinned and cringed at the same time.
Grinned because I loved the way she did the entire thing. I loved the format, the contrast, the... whatever. I'm not a photographer; I just thought it was cool.
Cringed because - holy crap did I look tired.
Something that probably wasn't helped by the couch I was sleeping on, the million other people all crammed under the same roof, or the tears I shed about 20 minutes before the picture taking began.
Because I'm all about perfect timing like that.
Let's just say that I've been missing my little brother like crazy lately, and all that missing him may have boiled over into a totally unexpected tear fest right before the photographer showed up.
Again, because I'm all about perfect timing like that.
So anyway, all I could see when looking at this picture were my puffy eyes. But I thought maybe (just maybe) I was being too critical. Because the picture overall - besides my face - was pretty cool.
Maybe my face wasn't actually as bad as I was thinking it was?
I texted it to the devirginator. Didn't say a word - just sent him the picture.
His response?
Almost immediately he texted back "You look old."
Let's not forget this was just a few days after he had finished telling me how good I was looking. So it's not like he was being a dick. I just... I looked old.
Needless to say, this is not my new Facebook profile picture.
It's too bad too, because I love everything else about the shot.
With the exception of my face that is.
Because, you know - I look old.
