The writing is on the wall (and the author used a red pen)

I just spent a lovely weekend in Syracuse celebrating the union of Mo and Tyson in holy matrimony. Holy smokes, did we have fun! You might even say we painted the town red. However, while we're on the topic of paint shades, I must admit that the festivities were tainted by a heated (yes, as in flames) debate. Oh, politics. The red-hot issue has yet to be resolved so I've decided to take it to the masses (ha! "masses") and ask for your opinion.

Please be honest, and even-more-please, don't be stupid. The truth is out there, and it is obvious.

Online Surveys & Market Research

Photochop

January has been bad in terms of my posts. Ah knoooow, y'all. Special apologies to Hayley in Malawi, whose blog updates have brought me many smiles and laughs: I am sorry I have not been adequately contributing new lame thoughts for you to read.

So, many many months ago, I created a Christmas list. On this list sat one sole item, bolded, italicized, underlined, hyperlinked to itself -- you name it: Adobe Photoshop.

My parents, being the kind and generous people that they are, granted my Christmas wish, and I am forever grateful. My creepations have increased infinifold in their realism and number. (Full disclosure: it's Photoshop Elements. I'm not complaining--beggars and choosers, as they say--just informing.)

I've gone from crass creations:

To masterful compositions:

But the thing about Photoshop, this gift that keeps on giving, is that it makes me realize just how greatly and convincingly photos are altered when they are airbrushed. Now, I know this is not a novel thought, but playing around with the liquidation filter, especially when I use pictures of myself, stirs up a lot of mixed emotions. Maybe emotions is too strong a word. Feelings. (Now I want to sing that Sesame Street song. No, staying focused.)

On the one hand, it's great for those photos that you would've loved if only your hair weren't in your face/you didn't have that pimple/you had remembered to suck in your stomach. With Photoshop, click-click, you love the photo. But part of me has to wonder whether it's the photo that I love, or just the click-clicked me. With enough money and low self esteem, who's to say I wouldn't try to snip-snip or tuck-tuck my way to click-click? (Enough sounds-sounds? Got it.)

Also, what does this say about the integrity of photographic evidence? I've seen many a troll commenting on sites like FMyLife.com with the line "pics or it didn't happen." Well, dear troll, you give me an afternoon with my laptop and I'll show you pics, though it never happened.

This is not to imply that FML is comparable to a court of law. I'm still pretty new to Photoshop, but what if someone enhances the pictured damages done to their car/body after they've been repaired/healed? Is there a way to prove that the pixels have been rearranged? I don't know, maybe there is. Just wondering.

But, going back to the standard-of-beauty issue that airbrushing presents, clearly it is not always obvious to the average consumer just how many (and to what extent) images have been digitally retouched. It is for this reason that Valérie Boyer wants all advertisement photos that are digitally altered to be published with a label indicating that they have been retouched.

I don't feel too strongly one way or the other on requiring a label, because I already assume that most advertisements are airbrushed. What I would really like to see is just less (or less extreme) airbrushing. It's no coincidence that airbrushing and plastic surgery are both much more common practices than they used to be.

Blasphemy: In a matter of minutes, I've "touched-up" the untouchable.

For me, many of those flawless magazine pictures look more like illustrations than they do photos. It's as though the models are characters from a pixar movie: they're nice to look at, and they definitely resemble humans, but they wouldn't translate naturally to real life.

After all, when a standard of beauty is something that a computer has created, meeting that standard is something only a surgeon can produce.

 In this case, some ideals are better left on paper.

Harlanguazon.com says, 
If you liked this post, you might also enjoy:
http://www.Photoshopdisasters.blogspot.com
http://www.dearphotoshopgirl.blogspot.com

My Mother, the Buzz Kill

(starring a young Katherine Heigl)

Sometimes when I find something funny or I'm very happy about something (read: there's a big smile on my face) and I tell it to my mom, she interrupts me mid-topic-sentence and says, "wear your retainers!" and shakes her finger at me. She really does shake her finger; I'm not making that part up.

Suddenly, I'm not so tickled to tell my story anymore.

BEFORE

AFTER

The biggest downer is that I know she's right. Those retainers kill me.

So, what have we learned from this?

Mother knows best.

It takes pains to be comely.

Two clichés in one post. And they say I'm not productive.