Till a couple of years ago, I was one of those people who categorically hated having her picture taken. Seriously - maybe there are 10 photos of M and me in her first 4 years. Back then, I couldn't operate the camera (not that it was fancy), much less bear to pose for it. And you know how intensely stressed and hideous I was back then... Well, unless you know me in real life, you don't. Which is just the way I'd like to keep it.
Anyway, eventually I got a grip on the stress and changed the whole lifestyle and started a blog about my true love (fashion) and the next thing I know, there I am taking pictures. (If I'm going to brag about that new gorgeous thing I've bought, I'm sort of obligated, no?) And then Scottie got me a cell phone for my birthday - which truly, I could care less about but for the pedometer and the built-in camera - and suddenly I was waiting in restaurants, taking pictures. Walking down the street, taking pictures. Going into vintage shops, taking pictures. Doing crazy eye-makeup, taking pictures. You see what I mean...
Somewhere along the line, Scott - who, for his many flaws, has supported my habit completely - went out and spent a living fortune on this SLR camera so that he could take photos of me and my stuff for the blog. Natch, he gets the occasional opportunity to snap "artful" shots for personal use which, in his opinion, justifies the cost completely. :-)
The fascinating thing about good photographers is that they capture what they see. I love this one, taken of me by my husband, because it shows me who I am to him: