Through the weekdays, I look like a frazzled, homeless donut in flamingo-printed pink and teal blue boxer shorts with a variety of t-shirts (getting very specific with the details now so that you understand my selfie obsession).
Therefore, dolling-up occasions are few and far between. An outing with my son—click, click. An outing with a girlfriend for dinner and drinks—clickity-click. Meeting family from all corners of the world once a year—an infinite number of clicks. See what I mean?
How does record-keeping of gorgeous moments with close friends and family fall under the bracket of narcissism? Take selfies; use your discretion. Taking a selfie a day starting from the toilet to your living room and into your kitchen? Mmm, you have a selfie obsession; maybe fewer clickities for you.
Also, I've been a fat cow practically all my life. Under some stroke of good luck and a very vigorous personal trainer, I've discovered collarbones. Cue the emotional crying now. I didn't even know there were bones here. What a revelation!
Therefore and hence, of course, I will take selfies to capture the above-mentioned bones. Who knows how long they will exist? Take selfies, sister; you deserve them.
More power to this selfie-obsessed generation. May we know them, may we be them, and may we applaud them—today and everyday. Mic drop!
No comments:
Post a Comment