Today, my sister asked me to help her find a photo of her very first day at school for an English school project. Normally, I would tell her to go away, but today’s one of those rare days where I don’t need to study, so I helped. And boy, am I glad I did. I’d forgotten how many photos my parents used to take of us, and spend an hour flicking through copious Woolworths photo albums.
I used to look so cool, even in what appeared to be pyjama bottoms in public. I think it was that whole I-don’t-care-what-anyone-thinks-of-me thing I had going on. As I grew up, I became more and more aware of my flaws, and became more self-conscious. I clamoured to have my picture taken when I was 5; I shied away from the camera at 15.
But why? The more I looked through the photos, the more I wished I was still as awesome as I was. Sure, there was a LOT of posing, but it was the kind of posing that came naturally, instead of that awkward posing thing that I tend to do nowadays.
Also, looking through photos makes me feel so happy, because the photo-mes are happy. 🙂