An Open Letter to The Frenemy

by Sarah Delaney


Dear Frenemy,

Miley Cyrus

Lately my self-esteem has been suffering due to your inability to restrain yourself from posting horribly unflattering pictures of me on Facebook.  Just because you feel you must document every minor, insignificant event in our lives does not mean you are required to haunt the minifeeds of our friends with pictures in that show me rolling my eyes to the back of my head, or flashing the corny piece sign like Miley.

Last Sunday, I peacefully awoke after a fun Saturday night, only to log on to Facebook and go into partial cardiac arrest. Twenty-four notifications sat waiting to be attended to.  I had a of slight flutter of hope that maybe you had caught a great “Kodak moment,” or maybe lots of people had casually written on my wall for no reason, but my optimism quickly died. All twenty-four notifications were from you; an array of tagged pictures.


I entered the album “~bUmp!N (($4tUrd4Y)) n!t3~”, a dreadful and disheartening mistake.  I would like to publicly recognize you for your fabulous photography skills in which have masterfully morphed my face into that of a flawless OGRE. Only you can transform my straightened hair into a ball of frizz, or the slight scar on my face into a Civil War wound. Even the advanced application of Picnik could not disguise your beautiful work by turning our faces orange. Congratulations!

Self tanner, or Picnik?

It’s because of you that I now dive behind the couch every time you whip out your lethal camera. It is because of you that I cover my face with my hands (much to your dismay of course) and utter a blood-curdling scream. It is because of you, Frenemy, that on Facebook, only five tagged pictures can be found under my name. And it is because of you that my iPhoto is filled with complete and utter failure from having tried to modify pictures so they look relatively decent.

So beware, my dear Frenemy. The next social gathering we shall attend together will be one of war. Do not be surprised if you find your camera in a puddle outside, the dishwasher, the toaster, or the mouth of the neighbor’s pit-bull…



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