Cringe-Worthy Moments: The Profile Pic Edition

So as I've been suffering through this dreaded illness cold that's been going around Penn State, I've had some time to indulge in the ultimate millennial generation activity, and stalk myself on Facebook. For the most part, I discovered that my teenage self really enjoyed telling others when I couldn't think of a good status (what?) and how bored I was all the time, but once I got to the profile pictures, I couldn't just help but show the world what I doofus I truly was. The funny thing is that I thought I was sooooo cool posting selfies of my shaved eyebrows (my fifteen year old self didn't know how to use tweezers, apparently), duck face and all. Why, old Kira, whyyy did you ever think duck face was a good idea?

But I digress. Here, folks, are the best of my humiliating reminders that I had no shred of dignity as a teenager, as well as no shred of eyebrow hair:

Selfie, part one of a million: So this picture doesn't seem TOO awful at first glance, except for the fact that I look slightly drugged. My hair hasn't exploded yet, and I've almost succeeded in hiding my bra strap. The sad thing, however, is that selfies hadn't been invented yet. I was so narcissistic, that I was all "hey, what's a good way to spend my time? Oh, I know! Taking a million pictures of my face!"

I'm just thankful that Snapchat wasn't a thing yet.

Hey guys, look, I'm a writer! Can't you tell by this envelope with illegible writing on it? The envelope, in case you were wondering, was full a poorly written Monk/Psych script that I was sure would turn me into the world's youngest/most famous script writer in all the land. This is also a sad reminder that my body has decided to cease aging since I was fifteen.

 This is not my cat. This is not a cat that I know. I think I just google searched "cats," and was all "hey, that's a cute cat, and for some reason, it totally represents my face!" I mean, this cat and I had the same adolescent "you're stupid" look down, but seriously. Never met this cat.

Okay. What? First of all, it looks like the devil has infected my soul here. Either that, or I just got out of the mental hospital and was all "haha, joke's on you, I'm still crazy!" And now we've reached the sad eyebrow stage. Apparently after taking a million and five selfies, the second best way to spend my time was to pluck my eyebrows off.

Let's not even talk about the thing on my head. Is that paper? Why is it a hat? Why? Did the devil in my eyes make me do it?
There are so many questions I have for my sixteen year old self. This is the kind of picture you see of yourself on Facebook and immediately untag yourself in. I took it to the next level and made it my profile picture.

I'm sooo artsy. Look, I'm even looking morosely in another direction to show that I'm thinking of important, artistic things.

This picture was taken, like, yesterday. I don't wanna talk about it.

This is when I first discovered the joys of technology. I so desperately wanted a twin, that I decided to make my own--my own twin with bad hair and all. Honestly, I think I was just trying to procrastinate doing homework (some things never change), but didn't I know that the correct way to do that was by looking at cat gifs on Buzzfeed?

Can you guess whose feet these are? I'll give you a hint: they're not mine. Like, if you saw that this was someone's profile picture, you would come to the (sane) conclusion that this person practiced ballet, and was good enough to dance en pointe. Nope, not me. The last time I practiced ballet was in like 1999, before crineg-worthy profile pictures could even happen (thank goodness). Maybe I just wanted the world to think I was successful while I wrote bad scripts and looked at Google images of cats.

OH MY GOD MY HAIR IS EXPLODING.

Seriously, teenage self, flat iron. Invest in one, so you don't scare children and birds stop flying in your head.

I'm almost at a loss for words for this picture. This is when I was convinced I was going to be a supermodel, and every great model's story begins by getting her jeans horrifically dirty on a pile of wood. I think I was trying to look sexy or something, but I'm probably just thinking "this is so annoying, my knees are shoved into a log." The saddest part is that I asked for these photo shoots.

Spoiler alert: I never turned into a world famous script writer, or a world famous model. Who's surprised?

This photo makes me cringe for two reasons: 1) I remember having to spend $300 to get my hair from gothic black to the same blond it used to be, and 2) I was trying so hard to convince myself that I was such a mountain woman, and so in tune with nature, but I believe at this moment, I was bemoaning the severe lack of all things glittery. And chocolatey. And my calves hurt, because I just hiked up a mountain, and until that point, my exercise routine had consisted of walking five steps to purchase a milkshake.







I'm almost certain these aren't the last of my embarrassing photos, but I'll let my parents cover those. At least I've stopped trying to be cool and have just accepted the fact that, eyebrows or not, my photos will always reflect my inner doofus.

Namaste.