I have failed as a modern woman.
I cannot take a selfie. Or, no, I should clarify … I cannot take a good selfie.
I’ve taken loads of selfies where it seems my chin is disproportionately larger than my actual face. Or when I end up just taking a photo of my neck and spend far too long stressing over the lines that have suddenly showed up in the last few years.
So selfies, to me, are the photographic equivalent of a magnifying mirror. It’s awful, no one needs to look at it, but for some reason I can’t look away.
As a result, I’ve been forced to find a loophole in the selfie phenomenon. I call it the shoe selfie. Essentially I just show people that my feet have walked places and I have a fondness for Chucks. And it’s a way of taking a photo of myself where I don’t have to really take a photo of myself. Granted, in a hundred years when future digital archaeologists examine my Facebook albums, they’ll wonder if I was anything but a pair of feet, and I may be commemorated for being the first living human to survive as just feet. Like that chicken who survived for years without a head.
I could be the foot equivalent of Mike the Headless Chicken.