I spent last Sunday at a lovely brunch with friends, blissfully unaware that I would come to regret this event for the rest of my life. Days later, I awoke to a cordial text from my close friend Hannah thanking me for joining the festivities, but after a brief text conversation, she said, “Oh! Almost forgot!” and then sent five of the absolute worst photos of me that I have ever seen.
What the fuck? Why would she do this?
Sure, immediately after we took the photos, I yelled, “Send those to me!” and as we were parting ways, I did explicitly remind her once again to “Send me those pics!” Then, two days later, when Hannah still hadn’t sent the photos, I emphasized the original message and texted, “Just looping back on the pics!” But how could I have known what would happen next?
After confirming these awful photos were not some sick form of blackmail or a fifth grader’s Photoshop project, I did several deep breathing exercises and took a closer look at them.
Things were even worse than I originally realized. Every single photo was taken from below, and I appeared to be moving through the five stages of sneezing: conception, wind-up, nose crinkle, expulsion, and snot aftermath. My friends all looked amazing – and believe me, I’m happy for them – but I simply do not recognize the version of myself that peered back from this camera’s cruel gaze.
My hair was unkempt, my skin was dry in some places, oily in others, and it appeared that between the third and fourth photo, I unwittingly dribbled wine down my chin. I also had a ton of food on my shirt from each of the three courses and was holding up a peace sign in four of the five pics. What? I never do that!
I’ve concluded that I must have blacked out as the photos were taken.
So as not to be rude, I texted Hannah, “Thanks so much for sending these!” and then removed myself from the situation, leaving my phone in my bedroom and rushing to the bathroom to see if I really looked like that. I texted the photos to three of my closest friends with the inquiry, “Do I really look like that?” and all of them said yes. I am inconsolable.
At this point, I don’t think we can be friends anymore.
I have been locked in a fetal position on the bathroom floor ever since. My only advice? Live each day as if it were your last, because you never know when tragedy (your friends sending you the pics they took) will strike.