Cameras Lie

“Cameras don’t lie!” said a photographer who took our family photo when my youngest child was one.

I had felt that she’d accidentally made me look a bit different than how I actually looked. I told her I wanted to edit my face just a tiny bit. Also she’d made my right arm look huge (due to the way it was angled in the photo). It was not genuinely like that in reality.

Photography lies. Photos lie. Not about everything. But they hate femininity. Sharp, firm lines, solid surfaces and large sizes are far easier to photograph than the curves and depth of nature. Details are fine as long as they are also sharp. …The hazy beauty of hills is often lost. The haunting beauty of a landscape is lost and disturbingly flattened. At least in the US. …In the misty air of the UK it was far easier to capture that sort of beauty.

Mirrors are more honest. When they consistently say the same thing. Beauty isn’t in the eye of the beholder. It’s objective truth. Unless an evil human or other entity tampers with that as well.

…Cameras are also beholden to the spiritual realm.

“I’ve already edited! Karrie, those photos are still legally my photos!” She was enraged.

“Even after we’ve purchased them?”

“Yes. They’re my intellectual property. You legally aren’t allowed to edit them. Ever!”

This factually average to below average looking, overweight woman who didn’t want to admit her mistakes in how she held the camera thought I was an idiot. Genuinely, a total idiot. So…I let it go.

I’m not stupid. *non-malicious giggle* I’m just better bred than you.” I thought to myself silently. “And you’re too plain and ugly and yet vain and conceited to admit that I really am a lot prettier than how you captured me. Too pushy and backward and narcissistically stubborn to admit the truth. Too hateful and moronic to think that anyone could be that truly different from you. That delicate. And that sensitive. And yet not stupid enough to comfort your demanding, self-righteous ego… You’re too deranged and limited to realize that not everything is simple like you? That good outside of you exists? Too dumb to realize that you truly are not actually a monotheistic God.”

“Okay.” I said in my meek, I’m-a-stupid-pretty-girl-from-an-Amish-farm voice. My I’m-a-lesser-god-and-you’re-always-right voice.

She sighed. She calmed herself down.

“I mean you just can’t. If I ever caught you I’d legally be in the right.”

“Okay.” I said in an even stupider, meeker, smaller and more adoring voice. I acted.

“Okay.” she said. “Well, we’re going to have a party at my house in a few months and I’ll be sure to invite you. It’s going to be so much fun!” She sounded excited.

“Oh that sounds wonderful!”

“Ok. Well I’ll send you an invite!”

“Okay! Great! Thank you so much!” I said happily. I sounded like a happy little ditz! *huge, fake cheesy smile*

I edited the photos later that day. That was almost a decade ago. I’m still waiting for the prison sentence from her stellar legal team.

“Shake that ass!” yells Joe Jr..

*Lacey slaps Lem hard across his face for sacrificing her already humble dignity and identity as Karrie to the possibly sadistic and gross Alter of JFK while he was still alive*

“She’s Lacey now.” says Michael.

“No!” says JFK Jr. in defense of his father. “I’m like you…” he says in confusion and arrogance to his older uncle. “She’s-“

“Not quite.” Joe says meekly.

“You never met him. He was very different from your father.” says Lacey.

Jr. seems confused.

“Your uncle Bobby was very different in a way too. So was Ted. Right?”

“Yes. But that’s different.”

“No. It’s not.”

The thing is…she was acting like a blustering, vain, arrogant idiot. Like a fool who still stupidly thought we were in high school. Or that I was some bubble-headed-bitch-trophy wife. The stereotypical housewife from a cable television show. Some piece of shit under her superior shoe. *la-sigh-of-a-superiority-complex*

“Women that pretty either aren’t really that pretty – you just have to look really hard and find what’s wrong with them – or if that fails she’s gotta be an idiot. Women that pretty are always stupid. Always. So stupid. Or gullible. Or naive or something. Because I can’t be that objectively inferior. I have to be loved. She’s probably loved by everyone. Spoiled, stupid, ugly bitch! I’ll handle her! *eye-roll*”

Are you like her? Probably.

Happy 107th birthday Joe Jr..

Lem smiles because Lacey slapped him.

Louis sees the tragedy of it all.

Michael is comforting.

Harold is laughing. *smile*