Cameras Will Steal Your Soul
One unexpected consequence of joining Beta Sigma Phi has been the proliferation of photos of me. Now, for a woman who has spent much of her adult life staying out of pictures, this can be quite distressing. I am not the prettiest woman in the crowd, but I have carefully honed my mental image of myself. I think I am elegant and interesting; photographs, however, generally make me look like Andre the Giant’s ugly sister.
Nevertheless, I have obediently stood up or sat down for pictures at least twice a month since September. The best angle for me — as with most people cursed with a double chin — is from above. Unfortunately, the Beta Sigma Phi photographers are almost always at least six inches shorter than me. Since I am so tall, I am invariably made to stand in the back, where my chin and I hover over everyone else.
In a few years, there will be enough pictures of me to create a flipbook of my aging process. But that’s okay as long as every once in a while, a good picture is accidentally created. At the swap meet a few weeks ago, once such picture magically appeared. And it happens to be a good one of my sorority sisters too. Go figure.