There’s something about the way my trainer captures me in photos. It’s not just the quality of the image or the lighting—it’s the way he sees me. Every shot feels like it catches not just the surface, but the essence of the moment. Whether it’s a perfect snapshot of me mid-workout, muscles flexed and sweat glistening, or a candid moment between sets where I’m laughing at something silly, he somehow manages to make me look stronger, more confident, more… me. I’ve always felt a little awkward in front of the camera, but with him, it’s effortless.

When I look at the photos, I don’t just see a picture of myself—I see someone powerful, someone in control. It’s like he knows exactly how to frame me in a way that showcases everything I love about my body and spirit.

Then, there’s my husband. Bless him, he tries. But let’s just say photography isn’t his talent. He’s the type to hold up the phone, tilt it to the side, and snap away without really thinking about angles or lighting. I can’t count how many times he’s taken a picture of me where I look like I’m either too close to the camera or too far away, or the lighting is so off that I look like I’ve just woken up from a long nap.

“Isn’t it good?” he’ll ask, showing me the result, all proud of his “work.” I’ll smile and nod, but deep down, I know it’s not the picture I had hoped for. It’s not that I’m disappointed in him—he’s wonderful in so many ways—but when it comes to capturing me on camera, he just doesn’t quite get it.

It’s funny how one person can look at you and see beauty in a way no one else does, while another might just snap a photo because it’s the right moment, not the right shot. I don’t want to hurt his feelings, so I don’t say anything. But in the back of my mind, I can’t help but think that my trainer has a way of making me feel more seen than anyone else—whether it’s through his photos or his encouragement.