Edwin loves to take selfies with me. I take them myself to help with my self-confidence, and because I like to (fuck off image police, I can do what I fucking want). Edwin is a fan of looking at himself, and I don’t blame him. Who doesn’t glance in the mirror to see how they look? He’s at the beginning stages of appreciating how he looks and recognizing his differences.
So whenever I pull out my phone and flip the camera to front-facing, and put it up, Edwin comes running.
Today, this is the result:
We’re both pretty photogenic. Him more than me–I have to use my angles or I look like a potato with hair. He looks adorable and pretty (his preferred word–I used to call him handsome, but he corrected me) and doesn’t need to tilt his head just so or use the lighting or pay attention to every muscle in his face like I do. He’s a natural.
But we both look pretty in the end.