I have spent parts of today sincerely gobsmacked. Last night, as I was looking through photos from the first day of school, I decided to update my Facebook cover picture -from last year's 1st day pic to this year's-and then figured I might as well change my profile pic too as I no longer feel like this:

In insane-rugby-player-Wondy's place, I posted this quick photo snapped by Amy, one of my dearest college friends and one of the group (love y'all, A, T and P) with whom I spent five days in California in early August.

I have no make up on, and my hair is pulled back in a tired ponytail. If memory serves, I'd worn that shirt three times that week. Hence it being so wrinkled. I don't know why I chose this photo, really. I think I liked the smile.

Amy and I were at breakfast, on the morning of our last day together, and I was rested and happy. I suspect that last night those things resonated with me. That despite the crow's feet and laugh lines, mascara-free eyes and jewelry-free everything, I liked the snapshot because of what it told me. Because of what it made me remember and feel grateful for.

In any case, I certainly did not think that anyone would notice or care that I'd updated my profile picture. I really didn't. I just felt that barbaric Wonder Woman was a better pic for a relatively fleeting time, you know?

I awoke this morning to a swath of comments that made me blush. I look just like I did in high school? I radiate love? I have a natural beauty??

Y'all. As I write this my mouth is agape once more. Beyond flattered, I am struck by the difference-often a gulf-between how we perceive ourselves and how others perceive us. There is a lesson here.

I consider the photo pleasant. It is of a woman who is happy, pleased as it were, to be where she is. But, as so many of us do when analyzing our own images, I also see the wrinkles, the ever-so-slightly crossed front tooth, the lightly-chapped lips, the bit of my part nearest my forehead where I swear the hair used to be thicker.

What if I instead looked at this picture as I would were it of someone else? As so many friends looked upon me?

What if instead of homing in on and rueing the traces of aging and aggregated fatigue I simply saw a woman confident enough to go out to breakfast without make up (in tony Montecito, for petes sakes!), without bling, and in a wrinkly shirt she might have worn thrice? What if I focused on that honest smile and valued the evidence of it having been made so many times? On the eyes sparkling with friendship and laughter rather than the lines around them and the shaded half-moons underneath?

What if we all looked upon ourselves with such kindness?

Thanks to everyone who helped me do just that. It was a powerful shift in perspective, and one for which I'm so appreciative. I hope you'll try the same.

Mille bacini a tutti voi!