Grimace and Bear It

Captain's bLog: 16 weeks.

Instagram ruins lives. Or, at the very least, vacations. Not my vacations, because I hate Instagram and refuse to use it, but definitely the vacations of the photographer-boyfriends who trail sullenly behind their photographee-girlfriends, taking the photos or videos that will ultimately be posted to her Insta.

Exhibit A: DH, Small Fry and I were at a glorious outdoor thermal bath in Tuscany and saw one poor fellow film his girlfriend just entering the pool, over and over again. I don't know why the shot had to be redone so many times, but he would follow her in, iPhone rolling, then she would review the video, deem it imperfect, and they would start again. I am pretty sure at least one take was ruined by some random fat lady in the background making incredulous faces at them (it was me - I'm talking about me), but others seemed to be rejected over frolicking children, her hair not draping correctly, swimsuit adjustments, and who knows what else. Once that shot was perfected, they moved on to another area of the baths to take different photos. In the several hours we 'took the waters', I did not see either of them actually seem to relax and enjoy the pools.

Exhibit B: While the weather back home was especially frightful, we made a point of really getting our money's worth by spending a sunny afternoon at a sidewalk cafe located near a photogenic local landmark in Girona. It was basically a perfect storm for people watching: I saw someone's dog pee on their backpack - like, really soak it (both were sitting under the table while their owner dined). I watched a little old lady use a magnifying glass to read her smartphone (I am positive there is an app for that). And I watched a young woman set up props on the steps of the landmark - a stunning landmark, which certainly did not require further adornment - which she posed with while her sullen photographer-boyfriend took and re-took photos until she was satisfied. I could have forgiven this foolishness had they settled in for a drink and actually enjoyed the lovely setting for a few minutes, but instead they packed up their props and scurried off to "improve" the next piece of local history with some snazzy-coloured suitcases.

Exhibit C: Does anyone actually eat their food while it's hot anymore? I could start an Insta dedicated entirely to photos of other people taking photos of their food. Which, by the way, would definitely include a photo of a certain little old lady peering through her bifocals, through her magnifying glass, at her phone, trying to take a picture of her tapas and sangria.

Of course, I could just be too old to "get" any of these things (although not so old that I can't see my phone screen!) and Instagram might not be ruining vacations or lives to nearly the extent that I imagine. Let us consider some alternate hypotheses:

The sullen boyfriends could in fact be fully enjoying their vacations, and simply suffering a bad case of resting bitch face... Meh, seems doubtful.

Treating one's entire life like a photo shoot or potential monetization event could be a very fulfilling way to live... I think we all know on a gut level this is not true.

I could be secretly envious of people with dedicated photographer-boyfriends and wish I could experience all the benefits a photographer-boyfriend would bestow upon my own vacations. For instance, I wouldn't have to all but issue a formal proclamation that I would like the photo record to reflect the fact that I, too, was on the vacation... my body would never be cut off at my widest points (I happen to be #blessed with several of them) so it looks as if I continue to flow eternally outward, like Grimace... my photos would come pre-screened to ensure no one's eyes were closed, or mouths were mid-sentence, or heads were entirely obscured by their mother's right breast...

Ahem, as I was saying, it could be that my burning vacation photo envy has embittered me and I must therefore mock the Insta-obssessed and their sullen photographer-boyfriends to make myself feel better...

Nah. Couldn't be that either. It's definitely ruining lives.