I took some “before” shots in my underwear. What could possibly go wrong?
I’ve done a few diets in my time, but I’ve never fallen into the big trap that is the taking of the “before” photo. Visions of myself, stripped down to my underwear under terrible household lighting, with all my bits and bobs on show, well that’s rather horrifying. And the idea of any other living thing on this planet accidentally seeing such photos? Mortifying.
Sure, I’m not Jennifer Lawrence and pics of me “sans clothing” are unlikely to become a viral phenomenon, but I still have my pride to protect. Which is why I’m kicking myself over going against my instinct and falling into the “before” photo trap.
I’ve started a “bikini body challenge” which strongly suggests starting with a before pic. Wanting to be 100% committed to the training, I decided to take the before photos. I had a plan. I would download the horrific pictures into a folder nobody would ever think to look at, named something clever like “definitely-not-pictures-of-me-in-my-grundies”. I would delete the photos immediately and nobody would ever have to know about them.
As often happens when you live with two toddlers, I got side-tracked and spent the afternoon making urgent “notes to self” to download and delete those pictures ASAP. We were just about to go on holiday with six of our closest friends and I imagined the sheer embarrassment of them scrolling through our holiday pics the wrong way…
Finally I got around to putting my SD card into my laptop, only to have the worst thing happen – a notification saying “Card is corrupted. Please reformat”. Nooooooooooooooooo! Houston, we have a Whitney Houston-sized problem.
Up north on holiday, my husband asked his techy friend to take a look at the card whilst I fell over my glass of wine to stop him from helping. There would be no pictures taken of this family break, a small price to pay, in my eyes, for ensuring that none of our friends ever saw THOSE PICTURES.
Now I’m in a pickle. I have hundreds of photos of my adorable darling children that will be lost forever if I can’t find the courage to take that damn, traitorous SD card into some kind of expert. Do I risk a total stranger seeing the worst pictures of me ever taken in the history of the universe? Urgh.