I would like to think we’re all guilty of this.

Ask almost any mom whose body has changed after having kids how many pictures she has of herself, or how many pictures she has with her kids, and the answer is usually: not enough.

Maybe she doesn’t feel like she’s at the weight she wants to be. Maybe her hair isn’t done. Maybe she hasn’t had a chance to put on makeup. Maybe she just doesn’t feel like the version of herself she thinks is “photo worthy.”

And it isn’t just moms. It’s any person whose body has changed with the passing of time. There’s so much that comes to play. Hormones, mental health, workload, capacity. Sometimes we’re just surviving life, and it isn’t fair to our bodies to not celebrate them for all they help us get through.

Truthfully, any kind of photography can be an unexpectedly emotional experience. Even something as simple as a headshot can have someone immediately picking apart their crooked smile, the frizz in their hair, the shape of their face, or the fact that one eyebrow apparently decided to do its own thing that day.

It’s time for us to stop tearing ourselves apart and just take the damn photos.

I don’t even care if it’s boudoir.

Every photographer’s social media seems to have some version of you don’t need to earn your photos or stop waiting until you’re ready.

But what does that actually mean? And why does it matter? So let’s get into it.

One: You never know when you’re going to wish you had the photograph.

When we’re in the middle of our lives, it’s surprisingly difficult to understand that one day we might look back on this exact version of ourselves with so much fondness.

You might be living through a season that feels completely ordinary right now.

Maybe your kids are little. Maybe you just started a new job. Maybe your hair is terrible. Maybe you’re 15 pounds heavier than you’d like to be. Maybe you’re exhausted and living in leggings and haven’t had a professional photo taken since your wedding.

And then, years from now, you might want to remember exactly what you looked like.

You might want to see the haircut you thought was absolutely atrocious. You might want to see what your kitchen looked like before you remodeled it. You might want to remember how tiny your kids were standing next to you. You might want to see you.

But if you spent twenty years avoiding the camera because you were waiting to look better, there’s no way to go back and fill in those missing years.

That’s the part we forget.

Photographs aren’t just about documenting the version of ourselves we think is worth remembering. They’re how we get to see the versions of ourselves we didn’t realize we’d miss.

Two: Respectfully, I don’t care that you’re waiting until you reach your goal weight.

I know that sounds harsh.

But hear me out.

Why is that your goal weight? Is it the weight you were at 16, before you had fully grown into your adult body? Is it the body you had before you made a whole human being? Is it a body you once had that you’re convinced you need to get back to? Or is it the body that social media has spent the last decade telling you is the most beautiful, desirable, and acceptable?

There is nothing wrong with wanting to feel good in your body. There is nothing wrong with wanting to get stronger, change your habits, or pursue whatever makes you feel your best. But there is a difference between wanting to change your body and believing you have to change your body before you’re allowed to enjoy it.

Because here’s the thing about ideals:

You can always move the goalpost.

You lose the weight, and now maybe you want to be more toned. You get more toned, and now you’re noticing something else. You fix your hair, and suddenly you’re worried about your skin. You get your skin where you want it, and now you’ve decided you need different clothes.

There will always be another thing. At some point, you have to decide that the woman standing in front of the camera is already worthy of being seen.

Maybe one day you’re going to walk into a room and realize you don’t care that your belly has a little more to it than it did ten years ago. You don’t care that your thighs look different. You don’t care that your face has changed. You don’t care that you’re not 25 anymore.

That is something to be proud of.

Three: You are more than your appearance.

This one sounds obvious, but we forget it constantly.

You are a mother. A daughter. A partner. A friend. A business owner. A woman who has survived things nobody else knows about.

You have inside jokes, bad habits, favorite songs, weird little quirks, people you love, things you’re still figuring out, and stories you haven’t told anyone.

Your appearance is one tiny piece of the story.

And yet somehow, when we see a photograph of ourselves, we can reduce the entire thing down to:

My stomach looks big. My smile looks weird. I hate my arms. God, I look tired.

We look at a photograph and immediately turn ourselves into a list of things to critique.

What if we didn’t?

What if a photograph didn’t have to prove that you were beautiful? What if it just got to prove that you were there? There, in that season of your life. There, with the people you love. There, with the body you had. There, before you knew how much you would eventually miss this version of yourself. And maybe that’s what it really means to stop waiting.

It doesn’t mean you have to suddenly love every part of your body. It doesn’t mean you have to feel beautiful every time someone points a camera at you. It means you stop making your appearance the price of admission for being allowed to exist in your own memories.

Take the picture. Take the bad-hair picture. Take the tired-mom picture. Take the picture where your stomach isn’t as flat as you’d like. Take the picture where you actually feel hot. Take the picture where you’re laughing so hard you look ridiculous.

Take the damn picture.

Because someday, you might look back and realize you weren’t waiting to become someone worth photographing.

You already were.