let me help you feel better about your adolescent shortcomings

The other day I received the following text:

Typically, when people ask me, "Is this you?" the unfortunate answer is yes.  Here is what that savory link pulls up:

Once you've stopped dry-heaving, the questions probably coming to mind are: How? And, Why?
Let me explain.  My dad is a stock photographer, which means he takes photos and companies purchase them to advertise their products.  So, instead of my childhood photos being catalogued safely in a rarely-viewed family album, they are for sell.

In other words, I will never escape the horror that was 6th-9th grade, because every awkward stage I endured is floating about the internet for sale.  And, people: a lesson I've had to learn as the daughter of a stock photographer?  Ugly pictures sell, too.  And while we're talking about ugly, let's examine my photo more closely:

When I showed Conlin what my friend stumbled upon, the first thing he said was, "What is that part?" The what is relatively easy to explain.  It's a slicked, zig-zag part with a braid thrown in for attempted fashion.  The why behind the part is what I find baffling.

But even worse is what I did to my eyebrows.  I could write a whole post (post series, maybe) about the troubles me and my brows have undergone.  In sixth grade, I was irrationally afraid of plucking, and decided to shave some of my wayward hairs.  This is difficult to do without shaving off most of your eyebrow, which is exactly what I did.  That winter I wore a lot of low-riding beanies.  Clearly, though, my troubles did not end in sixth grade.  The above photo showcases the phase where I completely plucked away any hairs that would give me a semblance of brow arch.  I know not where I got the idea.

I'm also not impressed by the fat day my nose was having.

But, alas:

There are far worse pictures available for purchase.  And far worse pictures yet to be taken.  I think it's time I come to terms.

Later this week [or next week...or the next] I will write a post dissecting the psychology behind my photograph-phobia.  And then, as my blog title suggests, you can be my therapists and help me recover.  I may also need to write a post about photographer archetypes.  Because, whoa.