Our Very Old Family Photos

My daughter has an app on her phone that lets you take a picture of someone and then ages that image somehow to make the person look old.

She showed me the photo she took of herself and it’s amazing. Her 14-year-old face was all wrinkly and drawn, her long dark hair was gray. It’s kind of creepy because it’s a still image and yet the eyes blink and it looks like it’s moving.

So we laughed and got all excited and I asked her if she wanted to try it on me. Of course she did, so she snapped a picture and excitedly, we looked at the result.

Absolute truth here. I looked exactly the same in the “aged” photo as I do in real life. We could not find even one difference. If anything, it made me look a little younger.

So, we laughed about that. At least shed did, her eyes blinking away many tears of mirth. But I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised. A restaurant once offered me the senior’s discount when I was only 48. I was with a friend who received no offer. He was 60.

After all that, my daughter then she showed me another app that makes you look fat. She took a picture of herself and sure enough, her cheeks and neck were all puffed out. And, again creepily, her eyes blinked.

“Wanna try it Dad?”

My first reaction was that, ya, that would be cool. Then I remembered the first picture and I declined. Once bitten, twice shy.

Bring me an app that makes me look young and thin, and I’m in. But, in my case, I’m afraid, that might exceed the limits of modern technology.

©2012 Jim Hagarty

Author: Jim Hagarty

I am a 72-year-old retired journalist, busy recovering from a lifelong career as an unretired journalist. This year marks a half century of my scratching out little fables about life. My interests include genealogy, humour and music. I live in a little blue shack in Canada and spend most of my time trying to stay out of trouble. I am not that good at it. I also spent years teaching journalism. Poor state of journalism today: My fault. I have a family I don't deserve, a dog that adores me, and two cars the junk yard refuses to accept. My prized possessions include my old guitar and a razor my Dad gave me when I was 14 and which I still use when I bother to shave. Oh, and my great-great-grandfather's blackthorn stick he brought from Ireland in the 1850s. I have only one opinion but it is a good one: People take too many showers.