Beware the photobomber.

In my group of friends there are two kinds of people: the shrewd ones who are quick to understand a joke, and me, the one who laughs a beat too late and gives herself away as the individual who obviously doesn’t know what’s going on, but hopes no one notices. So it goes without saying I’m the obtuse lady who is also easily photobombed—the one being just a tad too earnest about her self-portrait to not draw attention to herself. 

Now: this is Lisa.

Lisa is a very dear friend and one of the greatest hearts I know. She also happens to be one of the best chefs I’ve ever met. Albeit I’m known for being unable to cook chicken without burning it (and now you all know why I’m so skinny, congratulations), I do know what good food tastes like, and Lisa can make it. I, however, can boast an exceptional skill at transferring mixed greens from its container to a bowl, as well as opening cans of tuna.

By process of elimination, the fact that Lisa is not me automatically puts her in the camp of friends who are shrewd and often find themselves with opportunities to play the role of photobomber. Take, for example, this picture from last summer. The day was right, the outfit was right, I couldn’t help myself and neither could Lisa. I don’t blame her. Look at it. Jesus Christ.

But oh, how I loved that outfit so! The wonderful full skirt, the striped peplum blazer, the cheeky crop top, the beautiful purse, and the Lisa Frank shoes because I have never learned to appreciate subtlety. All I’ve wanted to do since last summer is wear that skirt again, and so I did. Mostly because I’d be at work and it would take Lisa at least twenty minutes to get there.

Here I am, then, curtsying, and here I am, now, writing this and realizing I don’t know what that’s supposed to look like, because for all anyone knows I could be trying to pee in public.

H&M bodysuit and skirt, J. Crew Factory jacket.

And because I don’t learn anything the first time around. 

Hyuck hyuck. 

Finally, 365 days later, I redeem myself. And now you all know how lame my life is, because that is what I looked forward to for a year.

And that’s about it. So remember, guys:


Photos, as always, by Kait, who has yet to photobomb me.