Snapshots
Are you one of those people who enjoys having your picture taken? I bet a lot of you are nodding your heads, maybe even vigorously. Someone points a phone at you, and you flash a great big, huge beaming smile right into that lens completely confident that the resulting image will be wonderful, one for the ages. If you’re one of those, you are very fortunate indeed as there is no longer any need for one of those old school cameras. People everywhere are just pulling out their phones and snapping pictures at the drop of a hat, and there’s a good chance those pictures will end up on the Internet for all the world to see.
If, like me, you are one of those people who prefers not to have your picture taken, you’re in a world of hurt. There is virtually no way to avoid the incessant picture taking that is currently going on in our society. I know. I’ve tried, and it’s clear that I’ve lost all control of this situation. I used to be able to destroy, by hook or by crook, any and all truly horrible pictures of myself. Try doing that now. They’re all just sitting there in someone’s electronic files for all time and eternity.
I have tried, really tried, to come up with a way to dodge all of this ceaseless and unrelenting picture taking, and found it to be impossible. If there was ever a lost cause, this is it. I recently attended a small family gathering at a local restaurant and had a lovely time until it was time for all of us to part company. Just as I was preparing to make my exit, someone said, “OK everyone, let’s get a picture.” Thinking quickly I grabbed my purse and disappeared into the restroom.
I don’t know what made me think this would work. I stood there in that restroom stalling as long as I could, but when I could put it off no longer, I walked out to find everyone still standing around obviously waiting for me. I looked around in desperation for a potted palm big enough to hide behind, but there were none to be found. I was just about to dive under the nearest table when someone in our party grabbed me by the arm and dragged me kicking and screaming to where the group was gathered. There was no escape. Pictures were snapped one after another. I was never shown any of the resulting images, so I’m guessing they weren’t that great. I’d like to be optimistic and think that maybe they weren’t too bad, but if not, there’s not a thing in the world I can do about it.
Perhaps the day will come when I no longer care about this. Maybe I’ll stare into that phone camera lens, smile for all I’m worth, and let the chips fall where they may. But until then, every time I walk into a room full of friendly faces, I’m checking for potted palms.