Fuck You, Bad Photos.

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In the selfie age it’s hard to escape the fact that everyone holding a phone is holding a camera. The urge to whip it out at every opportunity and document your life is powerful. You watch your friends lives unfold on Facebook and Instagram and everything looks so god darned perfect. Or does it? With a filter to suit every occasion and apps that can retouch you into a goddess within seconds, there is no excuse for a bad photo.

Unless you are too lazy or not quite vain enough to go down the filter, snapchat, photoshop route.  Which is me.  I’m definitely not one of the naturally photogenic types that never takes a bad picture.  And this is why I have almost no photos of myself with my kids as I always look horrendous.

So here is my Celeste Barber-esque tribute to shitty photos.  Although sadly I am not taking the piss on purpose, I really just looked that crap without trying.

Starting with one below from 3 years ago…..

That day on the boat in my head was an adventure on the high seas, with the sun in our face and the breeze in our hair just like Miranda and Flynn. Not the Womb Raider sucking on Nurofen and screaming her lungs out while I have my eyes blown shut by the gale forced winds.

Or there was my Instagram ready post birth photo where I look swollen, panicked and in urgent need of a shower.  Even the Womb Raider looks like she’s searching for answers. And Queen Bey would have looked just fine without the vaseline on the lens….let’s be honest.

Instead of looking like an Island babe in Fiji, I look like I did a face swap with Voldemort. And that’s an insult to he who must not be named.

Beach time with the Womb Raider as my photographer. And my thigh gap is hiding underneath the phone shadow…..

Merry Christmas! I’m sure Mariah didn’t have to stay up until 2am putting together the IKEA kids kitchen. And I’m not sure how I ended up looking naked either….. At least my nails look good.

Fuck You bad photos. Fuck you for making me too scared to have my photo taken with my kids, meaning when I’m dead they will not have much proof that they had a mother at all. Fuck You for making me look like I’ve got narcolepsy on holidays and Fuck You for removing my upper eyelids for shits n giggles. Just give me one stunning holiday snap so that when I’m old and fat I can show my grandkids that I slayed on a beach in Fiji. JUST ONE.

THE END

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