Sunday, 17 March 2013

Photo Faux Pas

Seriously. I mean, seriously. 

For the love of my vanity, can people please stop taking the worst possible photos of me?

Seeing myself tagged in yet another horrendously unflattering Facebook album this past week I was horrified; this was not how I really looked! It would appear that every photo of me from the past year has been taken with a wide-angle lens. My snap-happy friends were taking shots with their crummy cell phone cameras, adding extra pounds to my girth. Not appreciated.

I decided it was time to either change my settings so I couldn’t be tagged, close my Facebook account altogether . . . or . . . weigh myself.


Ok, so truth be told, I had gained twenty pounds over the last two years. Perhaps due to my health challenges, or maybe due to honeymoon happiness, I had packed on some excess weight. Whatever the reason or cause, the unwanted poundage was coming off.

Not one to deny myself food, I decided exercise was the way to go. Now, I work with law enforcement officers and could have joined their gym for free . . . yeah right. Like I want to shake and jiggle next to a bunch of firm-bodied people who get paid to stay in shape.

No thanks.

I packed up my gear and headed to the gym across the street from my office, slapped down my Visa and hit the first treadmill I saw. Thirty-five minutes later, I had worked up a good sweat amongst total strangers. Not having to make eye contact with coworkers during the painfully slow journey back to health, more than worth the forty bucks a month fee.

As I headed out the door-- somewhat pleased with my first workout--I was startled to hear someone call out my name. What happened to my anonymity? 

“Mrs. Dixon!” a young perky administrator was waving at me from behind the front desk.

Wiping the sweat from my face, I pulled out my messy ponytail as I made my way towards the counter.

“Sorry to bother you,” she continued, “But it was so busy, and you left so quickly, we forgot to give you your membership card.”

I smiled. Membership has its privilege. In my case, privacy.

“But first, I need you to stand right here; we need to take your picture.”


No comments:

Post a Comment