My boyfriend, my father and I went to the local zoo on opening day in April. We both took pics with our camera phones, but his phone is much better than mine — a smart phone — with a much better camera. After some nagging on my part, he finally sent me the photos. I present myself as I really look like from day to day. Most of the other photos I’ve shown to y’all have been posed, and I take my hair down and let it loose, because I think it looks better that way and what’s the point of growing it out like that if you can’t show it off. But I can’t stand it getting in my face, really, and on most occasions I have it pinned up, or at least kept back with a headband. Or both, like that day at the zoo.
Here’s me in the Australian exhibit, having crammed myself into a fake kangaroo pouch designed to fit children no older than early elementary school age. Very uncomfortable.
Here’s me in the petting zoo area, getting my jacket eaten by a goat. The purple thing I’m holding in my other hand is a brush I was brushing the goat with.
And here’s me and the goat again, after I realized Michael was snapping photos. The goat is still eating my jacket. No, in spite of its appearance, it wasn’t pregnant. I asked and the zoo staff said it just had some winter fat.