exhibit A, from my own cursed camera roll: the "candid laughing" photo. what it actually captured — me mid-sneeze, mouth open like a basking shark, one eye half-shut, the other looking at the camera with pure betrayal. my hair's doing a thing. my chin's doing a second thing, and a third thing below it. there's a visible bead of sweat on my upper lip and my tits — which, for the record, are magnificent from most angles — have chosen THIS angle, this lighting, this exact millisecond to look like two tired shoppers leaning on each other at closing time. i keep it. i keep all of them. the bad photos are the honest ones. the good photos are propaganda and we all know it.