PhotoShop

As many of you already know, I am a photographer. You can call me professional, but I just see myself as a girl that likes to take pictures. Something about capturing a moment right when it happens, a moment never to be seen again in that exact form in all it's beauty and rawness ...it gets me. 

A mother's laughter.
A child's pouty lip.
A bride's blushing cheeks.

All of these moments fleeting through my lens, only to live the rest of it's life in a photograph.
You can not get those moments back. 

I edit my photos for the majority of shoots, mainly photo effects, leaving airbrushing alone.

A few days ago, the weather was gorgeous.
The sun was reflecting off of my sunglasses and the Spring breeze was blowing my curls all about my porcelain face.

I decided to leave the makeup at home for the day and made my way down the winding back roads to meet the day's clients.

I pulled up to the abandoned buildings, a perfect mixture of orange rust and gray washed walls.
There waiting were three beautiful, strong women.

Their color schemes were perfectly coordinated and the droplets of sun kissed their freckled cheeks.

They were fun.
They were intelligent.
They were witty.
They were full of giggles.
They were full of life.
They were funny. 
They were free, but not from everything. 

As the shoot went on I learned their insecurities.
I learned the parts of themselves that they detested.

They insisted I edit their faces, legs, their bodies as much as possible.
They wanted me to airbrush their imperfections and shoot them from their "good" side.

They wanted me to...fix them.

My heart broke for them.

Why?
Why does it matter so much to me, you ask?
They were strangers.
Women I would probably never see again after that session in the sun.
So why did their thoughts and groans of self animosity hurt me?

Because they were beautiful.
Not only were their minds and hearts stunning to encounter, but that beauty illuminated so strongly it showed even through their skin.

I talk about body image and beauty a lot because I care about it a lot.
It is a burden I choose to carry for you, for the girl down the street, for the women I photographed that day and for myself. 

It weighs on me.
Heavily. 

When you maim your beautiful features with words of self destruction, I believe God weeps.
You might think that is an assumption too powerful to make.
I don't think so.

When one of my boys builds a colossal Lego monument, they are beaming with delight.
They want to show their dad, they want to show their brothers and they call me into the dining room to "ohhh" and "ahh" over what they have just created.

Want to know what happens when one of their brothers knocks into the table and dismantles a piece of it?
Want to know what happens when their brother says their masterpiece isn't all that great?

A melt down.
Possibly some boy tears collect into a pool on the table.

Why?
Because they made it with their own hands.
They put time into it.
They put effort into it.

To them, it's the greatest thing they have ever  made.
To them, it is perfection.

When someone comes and threatens that creation, they become defensive and hurt.

I think God can be the same way.
We are it, ladies.

We are His workmanship.

He created the alluring galaxies, the grand waves that mold caves and mountains.
He formed every exquisite jewel and yet His work was not in its entirety until He saw you.

He saw you and knew that what He had contrived was "good" ( Genesis 1. It's there. And it's awesome).

When we waltz through art museums, we don't mock Picasso.
We don't question Van Gogh.

We revere and we accept them for what they are.

They are the artists and their pieces are respected pieces of art.

We effortlessly understand that concept, yet we question the Creator of the creators.

The Creator of every artist we admire is often the One we ignore.
We roll our eyes, we pick apart His work and we disrespect His best piece-

Us.

I will never attempt to better or to change a Da Vinci piece.
That would be ludicrous.

Yet, we as women try to tweak the Master's design every. single. day.

Now that, is true ludicrous.


Why airbrush a masterpiece?

Why carve away at an acclaimed sculpture?

God doesn't want to Photoshop you.


You shouldn't either.