The tragic saga of author pictures

Today the boy and I went out in the natural lighting and took pictures of me. Out of 79 pictures (not counting two of a waterfall and an accidental shot of the ground, all of which look lovely), I hate at least 75 of them. And even in the ones where my face isn't a giant pink square, all the color that should be in my lips has migrated north to the bags under my eyes. Possibly taking pictures during a horrible allergy craze wasn't the best idea...