Looking back at past columns, I can’t help noticing that I am what you’d call a vain person. I write about it a lot, it seems. Yes, I want to look right.  I guess most people do. There are times I don’t care too much, but most of the time I pay attention to my appearance. I’ll admit it.

I have now watched both my sons grow up, and watching them transition from the kids who were constantly asked about bathing and deodorant to young men who smell like a cologne counter is interesting.  I guess we all start caring when we notice the opposite sex may be paying attention.

Yes, there have been plenty of columns written around this time of the year in which I talk about getting ready for school pictures. It’s rather pathetic, actually.  These days, my preparation for school pictures ends in disappointment and regret.  That’s really awful.

First, we have faculty identification badges made, complete with our pictures. This year, I was dressed fairly nice and thought I looked reasonably OK. As I waited in line, the regret I had for taking my picture started to go away. Maybe I’d look decent. Maybe I wouldn’t be disappointed with my picture.

I always forget what my beard looks like. Each time I grow one, I grow it for a couple a weeks and then shave it off when it starts to be a pain in the neck. Each time it grows back, there is a little more gray and a little more white.

Probably the last school picture I took in which I thought I looked OK was when I first started growing a beard. I found that picture the other day, and discovered it was taken 10 years ago.

There was no gray in the beard back then. And I was skinnier. It seems it’s all been downhill since then.

So, back to the present. I sit down. I laugh as my other colleagues clown around. Snap! The picture is taken. It takes a few minutes to get the badge printed. My new photo looks just like me. I look like Denver Pyle: you know, Uncle Jesse from the “Dukes of Hazzard.”  Time to shave off the beard.

I think being a little self-deprecating helps numb the pain of aging a bit. I mean, if you go ahead and make fun of your flabby chin and neck area, your spreading mid-section and your crows feet, no one else has to do it for you. Plus, if you point out a few of your imperfections, it makes the others around you a little less self-conscious. Or does it? Maybe people think I talk about looks too much and it’ll make everything worse.

I shake my head when I read past columns. Readers don’t want to read about my school pictures again. Nobody wants to read about how I pitch my free photos in the trash as soon as I get them.
I’m a little ashamed that my looks bother me so much. So, I take a look at scripture and read about being made in God’s image and how we are “fearfully and wonderfully made.” Then, I really am ashamed.

I should be glad I’m alive and kicking. I should be thankful I can still get up in the morning and head to a job I’ve been going to for almost 27 years, able to provide for my family and able to spend time with eager kiddos and talented colleagues. There should be more thankfulness coming out of me than worries about school pictures.

And, let’s face it: the real conflict is we lose track of time.  We picture ourselves 10 years younger and we aren’t. We age.  Gravity grabs a hold of our face. We sag and droop a bit.
But I think I’ll just keep smiling and laughing. Laugh lines form on your face, but it was fun getting them. There will be plenty of pictures taken after this year’s bunch. Might as well smile our best smile and be glad the photo shows the real us.

Grin and bear it. Be thankful.