I’ve been going through old pictures recently. Not the kind you print, because it’s been a long time since I’ve done that, but the ones on my computer that I haven’t seen in ages. Photos of ski trips, and hikes through the Costa Rican rainforest. Traveling with Rob on our first trip to London, when I met his family. A yoga trip in Mexico. Martha’s Vineyard right after we got engaged. Our wedding in Central Park. Our honeymoon in Italy.

I remember when I first saw most of those pictures, I thought I didn’t look so great. I picked apart my features, and judged myself in an unflattering light almost every time, but now I’m not sure why. The person I see in those photos is so fast and so active and so happy that I can’t really imagine ever thinking negatively of her. Maybe only time softens our opinions of ourselves.

Rob, Scarlett, Otto and I took holiday card photos in December with a great photographer, and I was still pretty critical of the way I looked. It’s easy to find fault with my appearance now, but I try not to do it. I have a five-year-old listening, and besides, I do like the way I look in some ways. My nails are stronger than ever, because they don’t do dishes or cook, and I certainly can’t get them in my mouth to bite them, no matter how anxious I might be feeling at any given moment. When my hair is clean (once or twice a week) it looks decent. I wear a dress every day, so I can’t be accused of schlubbing around. (But don’t inquire about the undergarments.) Read More>