I am constantly behind a camera.

Okay, almost constantly.

I spend my days looking at my surroundings as if looking through a lens – I gauge my surroundings as though I’m framing a shot. I see beauty in unexpected places. I see beauty where some people wouldn’t. I see beauty in everyone.

I hide behind a camera and so much of what I see is translated into pixels and colors and textures and richness.

And my world is better for it.

Somehow, the same care I give to viewing the world around me is not given to viewing myself. Somehow the rules that apply to the things in front of my camera do not apply to the woman behind it.

I made a promise to myself – 2011 is the year I would be kinder to myself, less dysmorphic, less apt to point out the fat days and the bloat (PMS, you cruel cruel beast), the split ends and bad hair days, the imperfections. It would be the year to embrace the qualities as they are because those are part of what makes me who I am.

And I tell you this:

It’s FREAKING difficult.

I don’t think I’m going to be entirely successful, but I guess I don’t have to be. Even if I become a little bit kinder to myself, that’s a step in the right direction.

The dog is going to take my Christmas spirit and rip it into tiny shreds with his pointy little dog teeth.

Why?

Because this is my (fake) Christmas tree. Do you know where my Christmas tree is? It’s in the kids’ playroom – a room I don’t usually hang out in because I’m almost certain to slice my foot open on a sharp Barbie hand (Or her shoes – that girl’s got some pointy shoes).

On Facebook the other day, someone told me what to do if a dog happened to eat a glass ornament. And frankly, I just really didn’t want to deal with it (also, ew). The playroom, however, is off limits to the dog and minimizes the chances that I may have to force feed the dog cotton balls (You don’t want to know).

But it’s sad, right?

The tree should be where everyone can see it and enjoy it – where, as Christmas nears, you can tuck presents beneath it and feel the anticipation of the upcoming holiday.

But it’s not so festive when you’re worried about your dog eating the ornaments, or knocking over the tree, or chewing up Christmas presents.

So we’ve tucked it away.

It’s sad.

If you look behind me in this picture, you can see the chaos of the playroom. You’ll see my Michigan tee (this was Saturday. What a sad day).

And of course, there’s me, tucked away in a little ornament.