how now

We were killing time at a local gourmet grocery before a Scout meeting and I saw a plastic cow statue. I handed over my iThing and asked for a picture. This is news.

I don’t willingly pose for pictures. I can think of several things I’d rather do than have my picture taken – they range from spending the night in a well-used Port-O-Let after a chili cookoff to an appendectomy without anesthesia. I don’t like pictures. I don’t like how my hair hangs limply from my head and I don’t like how one eye squints when I smile. I don’t like the shape of my nose and I don’t like the shape of the rest of me. Why in the hell would I want that preserved for all time?

Yet when I saw this cow statue parked in the picnic area… I can’t explain what came over me. I had to act the goof and step out of my comfort zone for once.

mooDays after the fact, I’m thinking this sudden change of heart is related to summer and another birthday, a milestone of sorts. We’re short on money and long on time, and first on my list for the Summer of Me is to give no more effs.

A few years ago I did have a few pictures up on a site and I received ugly comments, and it bothered me. I don’t fit the media-approved standard of beauty. We didn’t spend an hour staging this photo like the IG celebs. My hair will frizz, my belly remains rounded even when I suck it in, and I have to wear glasses to read now, but you know what? Heck with it. I’m still here. You can always turn away.

Me. I may spend my summer seeking out more cow statues for posing.