A pictures is worth a thousand words...about what?

I have to admit, I'm not wild about having my picture taken these days. My cheeks (along with the rest of me) are waaaaaaaaay chubbier than they used to be, and most of my clothes are pretty old and not so flattering, and I've had the same pair of glasses since 1998. Not to mention the fact that my chin seems to have disappeared into my neck, which makes my head look more like a blob than a head. This, I am told, is a natural part of approaching 30. All of this is to say, yeah, not wild about having my picture taken these days.
But why? I think because I've always thought of pictures as being a permanent record of me, something that represents myself. And I'd rather not have a permanent record of me looking like a frump-queen. But is that really what a picture represents?
Yesterday I heard someone say that a picture doesn't represent you, it represents a moment. So that dreadful picture that Susie just posted on Facebook doesn't represent who I am, it represents that moment in time. The moment when she convinced my husband to give me a really tickly, prickly kiss so she could get a picture of me screwing up my face in protest. Suddenly, instead of seeing that photo and cringing at my chubby cheeks, I can look at it and laugh at my silly husband and think about how much I love him, and how great it is to be able to laugh with a wonderful friend like Susie.
Or maybe I'm just trying to convince myself that being a big ol' frump-queen ain't so bad.