Help, There's a Fat Lady in my Picture

I'm pretty sure I'm famous in Nebraska. I also figure they know me in some small mid-western town; let's say in Kansas. I know for sure that there are folks in my home state of California who know me as I've traveled and vacationed extensively in the Golden State. I've been to Florida, Texas, and New York, so there is a chance that my face might ring a bell there, too.

The thing is I'm not sure they would know my face. I'm pretty sure that if anyone does know me, my identity is relegated to the image of a large, very white lady in a bathing suit and towel frantically trying to get out of his or her vacation photo.

Picture Bigfoot walking through the forest.

That's what I look like trying to dodge those parents who are desperately trying to capture on video or via high speed zoom lenses "Little Johnny's First Dive" or "Sabrina Splashing!" I just don't have as much hair, and I'm wrapped up in a towel.

I realized that I might be famous a few summers ago while vacationing in San Diego. That was the day I decided to throw caution (and my towel) to the wind and just lie out by the pool. This was not an easy decision as I am EXTREMELY self conscious. See, after birthing three children, two at one time, I do not have my old body back. In fact, I'm not sure whose body I have. It's fairly unrecognizable and is definitely not bathing-suit ready. Without surgery, my stomach will never, ever see the light of day (I think even the hub is scared, but he won't say anything). I can find somewhat flattering clothes, but swimwear is just not an attractive option, no matter what. To decide to lie out on a beach chair without being wrapped up, even for a few minutes, is pretty daring for me. Also, considering that I have no discernible skin color whatsoever, I have to be careful not to let the sun's rays bounce off my skin and blind those near me. My hope on this particular day was to gather a few minutes of sun, cause minimal retinal damage to innocent bystanders, and then head back up to our place.

This is where Family O comes in (as in Family "O, Wow! Why is that gal in our photo?). Family O is happily splashing and throwing super soakers and just having a grand old time. Their sons are jumping and diving and acting ridiculous. Awesome. Until I realize that Dad has been filming them do their crazy stunts. Across the pool from me. For quite a while. There is a fairly decent chance that I am forever a part of their family history. And even though I'm in the background, every time they watch this video, there is such a good chance that they see me.

It got me thinking about how many other photographs and videos I have become a part of over the years, all unbeknownst to me. Some of the pictures might have been flattering. Some of the families or guys or gals could have looked at their recently developed film and said, "Wow, check out this girl's hair style," or "Hey, this girl has my same pair of Jordache jeans!" (apparently all pictures were taken in the '70s) There was a news story recently about a couple who was looking at an old picture album and saw a picture of the two of them at age nine. The funny thing was that the picture was taken by the girl's family, and the boy just happened to be in it! Years later these two people met and got married, never realizing that they had shared a moment so many years before. That's really amazing.

Have I ever been picking my nose and been trapped in a picture? Has it ever looked I was? (Jerry: There was no pick!) Have I ever adjusted my pants, bent over at a wrong angle or made a really screwy face that is now part of a history that isn't mine? This type of thinking can drive you nuts, mind you, but I find it fascinating. I have no control over what others do with their cameras, and yet my identity is up for grabs by those who have captured me in celluloid. They might never notice my inclusion in their photos, or they might make up stories about who I am or why I'm doing what I'm doing or looking how I look. I will never know.

In his book 1984, George Orwell warned us about Big Brother (not the reality show, although he probably would have warned us), and the effects of an over-reaching, controlling government interested in ferreting out all that was secret in the lives of its citizens. In his story, Big Brother saw everything. My concern is that with all the camera options open to us today, my days of being a background part of only one family's video per summer are over. It's time to stay bundled up by the pool no matter what.