There I stood, restlessly shifting from leg to leg, as my aunt and uncle browsed through the family album. Why the sight of my sulky face glaring into the camera should hold any more fascination than the same sulky face glaring live at them I will never know, but so it was. Or, rather, maybe it was not MY face but the faces of the rest of my family that held their attention. If only they would look up, I could do the formalities of saying 'Hello' and vanish into my room with my book but...
"Ooh! Look how cute she looks!"
Well - that, obviously, was not me, considering the pronoun. But, then, it obviously would not be me considering that adjective, either. 'Cute' has very seldom been applied to me, though my mom swears that someone said it of me when I was a baby. You know how moms are...and going by my dad's expression when she said it, it was the sort of thing that only a mom would believe. The chap must have been cross-eyed and actually looking at the next crib.
THAT, though, is the reason why I hated these album sessions - and pictures in general. I mean, I can understand my sis being interested in the goings-on - SHE would get to hear things like 'cute' applied to her face on the picture and walk on clouds the rest of the day. Me...the closest I ever got was when someone said, 'He actually does not look bad in this", but the effect was totally spoiled by the disbelieving note in his voice and the three times he looked from me to the picture to ensure that it was not really a changeling in the picture. So exactly what did I have to look forward to in these picture album sessions?
Age has only added reasons for my hatred of any art of portraiture. I mean, yes, these aunts and uncles also used to dig out old wedding albums and start an impromptu quiz session. 'Guess who this is?" the rotund uncle would ask, pointing to a stick-thin figure grimacing at the camera as though he was planning the murder of the cameraman. Even the God who made him could not have found the resemblance but practice had made me perfect. There could only be one answer to THAT question! And, of course, that sylph-like figure gazing like a deer caught in the headlights is the one asking you to make the guess - a comfortable auntie who needs a king-size bed to herself, if she is not to fall off it at night due to inadequacy of space.
Age has added reasons, did I say? Yes - for, if it were to be now, I would be that rotund uncle surprised to remember that I was a stick-thin youth AND the chap with a skating rink on his head wondering if that head of unruly hair really belonged to me. Bah! I do not want to be reminded of these things.
Thank God, albums seem to have died out. Wait...they are ALL over Facebook. Ye Gods!
Now you know why I do not like...err...'Like' them. I HATE pictures!