Facetime, if you’re over 50, I’ll say it with you, ugh!
Back in the day, I wouldn’t have minded it at all. My skin would have been smooth and not have drooped like a basset hound when I looked down into the camera. I’m also quite certain that my hair would have been more agreeable than it is today.
I must admit that I spend a fair share of my Facetiming moments focusing on myself rather than the caller. As they talk about their day and current events, I’m trying to maneuver my cell phone to some sort of impossible angle to make me presentable or at least at a viewpoint where I don’t look like an old hag.
If you have the same issue, here’s a word to the wise. I’ve found that if I dim the lights, hold my phone above my head and only show half of my face, I don’t look too bad.
If that doesn’t help, try crossing your eyes a bit so that things look blurry.
If you’re anything like me, you’ll probably want to write that down so you don’t forget it.
I have a daughter-in-law who loves to Facetime. Naturally, she also happens to be young and darling. I’d call out a big-fat no fair when she Facetimes me after 10 and I’ve been asleep on the couch for an extended period of time. But it would do me no good.
Stephanie loves me, so she looks at me through rose-colored glasses, tells me that I look great and moves on to other things.
I also have a brother-in-law who loves the sharing and caring moments that these camera conversations provide. He also lacks a filter for things that you should not say to a woman who is working out in the heat on a 100-degree day.
The only thing that is worse than looking down into your phone and seeing how horrible you look, is talking to someone who will point it out.
But the wonderful thing about chatting through all of this social media is staying connected to loved ones who we can’t get together with thanks to the coronavirus.
My sister called me the other day, visited for a moment and then put her two darling granddaughters on. “Aunt Lori!” they called out with great excitement. “Do you want to see our new water slide?”
As I watched the screen on my cell phone, they bounced across the yard, and then dropped down to a toe and asked, “Do you see that? That’s where I cut myself.”
Then, once again, we were on an excursion that ended up at the base of a blow-up water park. They then spun me around, showed me another couple of fun things that included, but weren’t limited to, a hose that looked like, and I quote, “A huge snake that could swallow us whole!”
As they squealed with delight, those little dolls raced across the yard on a dead run that ended in a battery-operated toy truck. With their own rendition of Thelma and Louise, we bounced across the yard as they expressed their joy and called out “Yay! Yay!”
Every so often, the camera would catch a glimpse of them and their smiling faces but for the better part of those 60-seconds, I just saw the world go blurring by.
I saw a bit of a fence, an upside-down tree and a dog waiting at the ready with a ball in his mouth in case someone had an inkling to play fetch.
We finally came to a halt. “Did you see that?” they asked as both of their darling faces appeared in the camera.
“I did!” I said masking my great gratitude that the wild ride had ended. “Where’s Grandma?”
“She’s right here.” I don’t know if you can quite imagine seeing the world through a wristwatch camera of an Olympic runner, but I certainly experienced it as they raced across the yard to take the cell phone back to my sister.
These social media conversations have both their good qualities and their bad. But if there’s one thing that I learned through today’s conversation with my little nieces it is this: There are a lot scarier moments than looking down into your phone and seeing that you look like a hag.