Speaking Truth in Love to Women . . . He makes beautiful things! No matter where you're from, what you've done or what's been done to you, God can make something beautiful out of your life.
Sunday, 17 March 2013
Photo Faux Pas
Seriously. I mean, seriously.
For the love of my vanity, can people please stop taking the worst possible photos of me?
Seeing myself tagged in yet another horrendously unflattering Facebook album this past week I was horrified; this was not how I really looked! It would appear that every photo of me from the past year has been taken with a wide-angle lens. My snap-happy friends were taking shots with their crummy cell phone cameras, adding extra pounds to my girth. Not appreciated.
I decided it was time to either change my settings so I couldn’t be tagged, close my Facebook account altogether . . . or . . . weigh myself.
Dang.
Ok, so truth be told, I had gained twenty pounds over the last two years. Perhaps due to my health challenges, or maybe due to honeymoon happiness, I had packed on some excess weight. Whatever the reason or cause, the unwanted poundage was coming off.
Not one to deny myself food, I decided exercise was the way to go. Now, I work with law enforcement officers and could have joined their gym for free . . . yeah right. Like I want to shake and jiggle next to a bunch of firm-bodied people who get paid to stay in shape.
No thanks.
I packed up my gear and headed to the gym across the street from my office, slapped down my Visa and hit the first treadmill I saw. Thirty-five minutes later, I had worked up a good sweat amongst total strangers. Not having to make eye contact with coworkers during the painfully slow journey back to health, more than worth the forty bucks a month fee.
As I headed out the door-- somewhat pleased with my first workout--I was startled to hear someone call out my name. What happened to my anonymity?
“Mrs. Dixon!” a young perky administrator was waving at me from behind the front desk.
Wiping the sweat from my face, I pulled out my messy ponytail as I made my way towards the counter.
“Sorry to bother you,” she continued, “But it was so busy, and you left so quickly, we forgot to give you your membership card.”
I smiled. Membership has its privilege. In my case, privacy.
“But first, I need you to stand right here; we need to take your picture.”
Seriously?
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