I confess, I don’t understand selfies. What’s the thrill about sending pictures of yourself to everyone you know? It’s tied for last place with pictures of the meal one is going to eat.
I hate having my picture taken, as I’m content to be on my side of my face and have no desire to contemplate the side most people view. I tolerate several minutes during the time I shave, but with the shaving cream and contorting my face and stretching my neck while shaving I do not see much resemble that others believe I look like. Pre-coffee vision also helps.
In my teen years and well into my twenties, I pursued photography so that I’d be on the other side of the camera. The added advantage was that not only was I not asked to be part of the wedding party—saving the expense of renting a tux, etc., but I made a few bucks even on the heavily discounted wedding albums I did for friends.
My kids are the same way. The only way they’ll tolerate having their picture taken is if the only other option is cleaning their bedrooms and bathrooms (which is too bad, because they look better than I ever did—or will). My son chastises me for even taking pictures.
So selfies? I polled the family, and this was the best offer I got.