Blame it on the alcohol…the camera…or my face

29 May

Who knows why we manage to keep certain memories from our early childhood and why other memories fail to make it into the filing cabinets of our mind. My earliest memories include jumping off kerbs, my first brother Aaron being born, my Nan and I feeding stray cats on holiday, my dads expression as I handed him a ‘Happy Diwali’ card I made at school, and a mean kid from the primary years laughing at my first school picture.

My relationship with cameras is certainly love/hate

Since that fateful day my relationship with cameras has been strained at best, it’s a love hate relationship (I don’t mind them, but they seem to have a grudge against me, and they’re not letting it go)

After that incident I’ve always been a bit conscious about the way I appear in pictures, not for the first time in my childhood have I been accused of ruining the photograph for some reason or another. I would watch my cousins and brother in envy, their effortless ability to form the most flattering poses and expressions, whilst I stood dumpy and awkward with a smile (if I was bullied into summoning one) that would have looked more at home on a corpse in the stages of rigor mortis.

We didn’t have photoshop back then

Spending a great deal of time avoiding cameras, as soon as one appeared I tended to try to Houdini myself out of the firing line, however I was not always successful and there is a horrifying amount of evidence to show it. The one in the back with the shocking bright red hair clashing with deathly pale skin, dark circles under the eyes, with ill-fitting clothes, the beach ball-shaped face and awkward stocky pose, I stood out like a very sore ugly thumb against my svelte delicate photogenic family. My mum always use to joke I was the milkman’s, and although I am pretty sure she is joking (at least I hope so) the general photogenic gene that runs through all members of my family, on both mum and dads side has not chosen to grace me.

With relatives this photogenic no wonder I have a complex, I don’t look at all like my family!

They say ‘a picture is worth a thousand words’ I’ve always hoped that’s not true, because christ knows what dreadful words could be associated with some of the most heinous offenders lurking in my mothers thick photo albums. I’ve been known to go to any length to get rid of pictures of myself, I’ve stolen pictures from albums, swapped my pictures from frames and even cut myself out of pictures and claimed to have no knowledge of any of it.

It wasn’t until university that I became accustomed and resigned to having my picture taken, it took three years of training myself not to run away from camera moments and stand still with my girlfriends posing. Inwardly groaning the next day I would see multiple pictures of me appear on Facebook ,the girls towering above me looking like the club princesses they were, the kind of images you would expect to see promoting a night out, and then me looking like a barely turned teen age girl who managed to sneak her way in.

Done it again! Its very hard for me to find a picture I like! And this is one of the less embarassing ones

In my later university years I discovered the joy and widely socially accepted excuse for appalling photographs was alcohol and after that there was no stopping me, if someone snickered at a terrible photograph that had made its way into their path despite my best efforts, I would hold my hands up and just say ‘alcohol’ they didn’t need to know that I rarely drink on nights out. ‘Alcohol’ was all they needed to know, and my terrible facial expressions and captured images at terrible angles, became just another funny antic of the night.

I’ve got hundreds of prom, school, family and summer ball photographs that I wish would disappear suddenly in a mysterious fire. None of these I can blame on the alcohol, or the camera, just my unfortunate face!

At least this one I can blame on drink….

However despite all this my step father, who thinks himself a photographer and manages to capture me from every worst possible unflattering angle, tells me this when I begin to complain and threaten to delete his photo library  ‘its not about looking good, it’s about capturing the moment, whatever that happens to be and however you happen to look in it.’

How I generally like to appear in photos

I suppose part of me thinks he’s right, but I still thank the gods that Photoshop has been invented!


One Response to “Blame it on the alcohol…the camera…or my face”

  1. meganchapple May 31, 2012 at 6:44 pm #

    I nominated you for the Very Inspiring Blogger and One Lovely Blog Award. You can see your award on

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