Pics of Bull and Bro

I’ve mentioned before how I really don’t like to have my picture taken. I really don’t. I never have.

And even worse, in this day and age, is how photos end up on the Web, out of control. Once a photo hits cyberspace, it can wind up going anywhere without your knowledge or approval. Until this week, with the last few posts to this blog, to my knowledge there are no photos of my face anywhere on the Internet. I don’t even have pics of me on my personal Facebook page. (No, this isn’t a challenge for anyone to start posting pics of me anywhere. Please don’t.) It literally stresses me out thinking that my picture could end up on some embarrassing web site.

I can fully admit that my dislike of having my photo taken is probably completely hysterical, and coming from some deep emotional problem. I was probably scared by a camera flash when I was a baby. The fear of loosing control of my photos online is probably a sign of some pathological control issue. I probably lost a photo of my mother when I was a child. I don’t know.

But I’ve decided that I really need to get over this phobia. So, just like someone with aquaphobia should just dive into the ocean, and someone with acrophobia should just jump off a 12th-floor balcony . . . (yeah, I’d make a terrible psychiatrist) . . . I’m trying to break my fear by doing the very thing that FREAKIN’ STRESSES ME RIGHT THE HELL OUT. But I’m taking small steps to work my way up. So far, my first steps have taken me up to my teen years.

Now, I’m about to step into pictures of my [semi] adult years. I’m bringing brogrit along with me, as I did with my first baby steps, to help keep me less freaked out.

Here are me, our dad, and brogrit, circa 1989:

(I’m guessing the date of this photo based on my shoes.) 1989 would put me at 21-22 years old, and brogrit at 17 years old. Our dad would have been 50, (6 years older than I am now). Look at that hair! Both of us had the curly mullet rockin’.

I have the barest smirk on my face in an attempt to smile, but I was so uncomfortable in front of a camera. Brogrit looks completely at ease.

Here are me and bro ten years later, in 1999:

(The year is written on the back of this photo.) 1999 would put me at 31-32 years old, and brogrit at 27. By this time, we’d long since lost the mullets, but I was starting to sport a mustache and goatee. I’d grow and shave that facial hair many times over the years, but I eventually decided to keep it permanently by my late 30s.

Again, I’m stiff with almost a smirk, and still brogrit is comfortable.

Bullgrit