Seriously, the first and only thing that comes to mind when someone mentions picture day is: why?
Well, that's not the only thing that comes to mind when I think of picture day, otherwise I wouldn't be writing about it right now. And as you might have already guessed, I had picture day today.
Now, let's get things straight here. I'm in the eleventh grade. I've had picture day every. single. year. since preschool. And why, I ask you, do I still have to get my stupid picture taken year after stupid year? Because I'm pretty sure everyone knows what I look like by now. Grandma knows, my parents know, I know, and anyone else knows. So why do I need to have a pointless very unflattering picture of myself? Is it some kind of proof of my existence. Like, oh no, Nina didn't get her picture taken this year, she must have been sucked into a black hole. Then again, if everyone thought I magically disappeared and didn't exist anymore, it would make my life a lot easier. Hmm.....
Or maybe it's all just a scam and the real reason why we have picture day is so that the teachers can hang our pictures in the teachers lounge and throw darts at our heads during lunch break. And laugh at our awkward smiles and nerdy glasses and pimples and hideous outfits. That's why the teachers are always in such a good mood after lunch break. And you thought they were just hitting the bottle. Pff.
Another theory is that the principle sends our pictures to the C.I.A. so that they already have our pictures when we become serial killers or join the K.K.K. This would actually really make sense. I mean think about it. The teachers don't trust us at all and pretty much think we're complete failures who are never going to get anywhere in life. And everyone knows that the next step after becoming a hobo or still-living-with-mom loser is obviously becoming something along the lines of a serial killer. Just ask C.S.I.- almost all of the killers on that show were, at some point in there lives, losers and/or failures. Am I right?
So, if you ever become a killer and the C.I.A. finds you because they magically had an embarrassing picture of you from the tenth grade, you now know why.
And while you might think it's a bad thing is we all become serial killers, it does have its advantages. Don't get me wrong; I'm not suggesting that becoming a serial killer is actually a good thing. But, at least we could go around and kill all the annoying girls on picture day who really make me think that I'm an alien from some distant planet. It's not that I don't wonder every other day if I'm some alien experiment NASA planted on Earth to secretly examine how I'll adapt to humans and their ways, but picture days really makes it clear that I'm not from this planet. Or at least not from the strange world we call „High school“.
Let's clear this up again. On picture day, I put absolutely no extra effort into my appearance. I put on the same pair of jeans as always, throw on a t-shirt that was tossed onto my chair anytime between yesterday and two months ago, and then I brush my hair without so much as looking in the mirror. Once I'm at school I comb my fingers through my hair a few times and I'm ready to go. When it's my turn to get my picture taken I try to ignore the photographers annoying comments and attempts to be funny and flash my best get me the hell out of here smile. Charming, I know.
And then there's the other girls. I'm talking about the girls who think picture day is, I don't even know, their big break into the modeling business or something. They come into school all happy and cheerful with their absolutely beautiful gooey faces and rock-hard hair dos from all of the makeup they caked on and the cans of hairspray they used that morning. Then they strut around the school in their perfectly styled (a.k.a. horrendously tacky) outfits. When it's their turn to get their picture taken, they squeal and make other noises that I think are supposed to be cute while brushing eachother's hair (which is practically impossible because of all of the hairspray) and adding more makeup to the masterpiece. Then they give their all and strike a pose, flashing their pearly whites in a way that says „Vogue, here I come“. Ugh.
Can I please join the teachers in the teacher's lounge and try my luck with those darts? Pretty please?
Then they run off squealing again about how gorgeous they are and how they're all going to become supermodels together and travel the world and everyone will envy them.
After that the day turns into one like any other. I go back to class, doodle my way through biology, math, and German, and then I head back home to complain about it to all of you.
And that's all for now, folks.
Your charming hater of picture day,