On Ignorance and Bliss.

I was browsing through iPhoto archives, as I do on occasion when I'm feeling particularly vain and wanting to see photos of myself, and a thought came to me. Came like a gust 'o wind as I was examining my backside in an old photo thinking, "GAH! I KNEW those jeans were a bad idea." And the wind whispered,

ignorance is bliss.


And again when I spotted cotton-y white roots peeking through my dyed brown hair and thought, "did Nathan seriously let me go out in public looking like this?!" .... the thought,


ignorance is bliss.


And when I reached the newborn Stella photos and seeing them objectively realized that she looked like a frail old man with yellowing eyes and a pimply nose. The thought,


ignorance is bliss.


Okay, maybe not bliss, but certainly less painful than reality at times. 


This world we live in - what with its digital photos and videos with instant playback and the internet which allows us to learn what outfit our stylish friend in Australia is donning today makes it REALLY hard to stay ignorant in terms of self image.


The dressing room at Target, for example. Gets me every time. I walk in, catch a glimpse of myself from 4 different angles and think FAT.THIGHS.SHIRT.LOOKS.TERRIBLE.WITH.THOSE.PANTS.DO.SOMETHING.WITH.THAT.HAIR.


Ignorance. Bliss. Bliss when there were no mirrors and people loved each other ugly and un-plucked and all. Bliss when you had no idea what people saw when they looked at your backside. Bliss when memories past were only documented, filed and stored from the perspective of our own eyeballs.


I'm putting down the camera and getting back to that.