To begin with...I hate, I mean really hate having my picture taken.
I blame this on my mother who, when I was in first grade, forced a pixie haircut on me and made me wear a dress I hated to have school pictures taken. The worst part was one of my front teeth was missing and when it was my turn in front of the camera, the photographer insisted I smile. I didn't want to smile but my tormentor, the photographer, wouldn't snap the shot until my lips parted showing the gaping hole in the front of my mouth. It ended up looking like I was grimacing in pain. My eyes were all squinted, lips stretched in a straight line...it was horrid. Probably the beginning of what Oprah fondly calls "The Ugly Cry"...which, sadly, is the only kind of cry I know how to do.
I'm pretty sure this incident damaged me psychologically. And since my mom's dead, there's nobody left to contradict anything I might say about the incident. Besides, since it's my memory, albeit not as sharp as it once was, it must be an accurate reflection of the way I saw things then, right? Well, that's my theory anyway.
My SIL loves get together's. She likes to host them...she likes to attend them...she just fucking loves that kind of stuff. I can take it or leave it. Most of the time, I leave it. You know why? Because there's always some fucking asshole with a camera to capture photographic
When there's a family photo that needs to have everyone involved, I cooperate. I don't like it but, oddly for once, I'm not an asshole about it. I participate...and that's really all anyone can or should expect, isn't it? Well, I think it is.
It's not the "family photo op" that bugs me. Okay, it does bug me a little, but really it's the "Candid Camera" snapshots that the SIL and those of her ilk are after that bug me the most. No matter where the gathering is the SIL is there with her camera. She even took pictures at a family funeral. WTF??Who takes pictures at a funeral? All the grieving family dressed in darkness, looking ever so solemn and mournful...just waiting for the SIL to snap their picture as they wipe tears from their eyes or blow snot out of their nose accidentally streaking it across their cheek leaving a shiny smear to be immortalized in a family "memory". Nobody wants their picture taken with a Rudolph nose and red, puffy salamander eyes.
Never when I'm at one of these gatherings do I throw a fit...I mean, I do in my head...in my head, I've called my SIL every fucking horrible name in the book...and then some. Usually, if I see someone with a camera, I just casually walk the other way or turn my head so I'm not really in the shot.
If I'm cornered deliberately by someone like my SIL sometimes I give
Guess what they do then??? They post the pictures on fucking Facebook. Never in my life have I posted anything on Facebook. But who knew I didn't need to? Who needs to post their own pictures when you have family and friends who think it's perfectly fucking acceptable to invade your privacy by posting pictures of you that you've never even seen or didn't even know existed?
I've never used Twitter, Instagram, Pinterest, or any of that stuff and admittedly I'm sort of a Luddite. But that's neither her nor there. I've never had a need for any of that stuff. If I did, I'd figure it out...until then, meh.
The simple truth is...even though some refuse to acknowledge this, most people don't care about looking at other people's pictures.,,they do it out of politeness. I'm pretty sure my life isn't that interesting to the rest of humanity or even the small group of people I know in this world that they would welcome being inundated with a never-ending stream chronicling the minutiae of my life.
And here I sit writing about that same minutiae...it's the stoopidist thing.
Pee. Ess. I do see the irony in this.
Pee. Pee. Ess. I really do like my SIL.
Pee. Pee. Pee. Ess. I don't think I was nearly as bad with the F-bombs as I thought I was going to be.
Pee. Pee. Pee. Pee. Ess. After today I'm going back to the normal P.S. system. It seems kind weird to be typing PeePee all the time.