Outnumbered Two to One

At some point after my oldest hit puberty, she stopped smiling for photographs.

Maybe it has something to do with the symptomatic insecurities that accompany hormonal fluctuations, maybe it has something to do with her irascible personality or her unwavering desire to irritate the socks off me. Regardless, she’s made it impossible lately to snap a decent picture of her.

I’ve got some with her sneering or snarling or some variation of teeth baring unrelated to happiness. I’ve some with a tongue out, or with a book held up, or with a twisted squinty eyed glare that most resembles agony. I’ve got weird profile pics she’s taken of herself, I imagine, to get a good look of what her head looks like from the side. But never, ever anything flattering.

Until now.

I guess she’d borrowed my camera to get a cute photo of herself to maybe email her friends. But now, I’ve got my hands on it. Which makes it blog fodder. Ha.

So here’s my surly girl for the world to see.

To think just a year and a half ago she was this:

And a once upon a time this:

Coming soon: the rest of the offspring.

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