I love to photograph faces. It’s my favourite thing. I have so many pictures of the family. Happy, sad, silly excited: the full range of expressions and emotions. I love to photograph the children, so much so that they get bored with me taking pictures of them. The twins are so interesting to photograph. They are non identical, so it’s interesting putting them next to each other and seeing how the look the same or different. I like to look and see which of their features remind me of someone else, eyes like their sister, or ears like their uncle. 

On high days and holidays and staying in the house in your PJs days, I’m always there, with the camera out, snapping away. So I had files and files to choose from to pick a favourite set of photos.

But there’s one face missing from all my photos. My own. For the last two years I avoided being in photos. I hold the camera, so I’m in charge. The reason is that I don’t recognise myself anymore. My eyes are empty holes of tiredness. There are lines which were never there before, do I really frown that much? I wouldn’t say I was vain before but I definitely spent more time checking my appearance.

Having three girls I’m constantly aware of my duty as a role model. What am I teaching them if they see I avoid being in photos? There is nothing wrong with my face. It may not be as slender as I’d like, I may have bags under my eyes and touches of silver in my hair. But this is what I look like now. This is what my children will remember.

So I’m going to start stepping in front of the camera occasionally. This is my face. I won’t be ashamed of it anymore.

To look at lots of other faces go to: