The truth of photos.

Going to try a little something different this time. Just go with it and let me know what you think in the comments section. Here goes:

Was I really that skinny? Did I think those glasses were cool? I'm so glad I have no interest in politics, too many photos to come back and haunt me. She said "con amore siempre", so far so good. Let that be a warning, only write what you mean on photos, just like watch out who you're photographed with. Does she still hate me? For that matter, does she still love me? That was so beautiful, why doesn't the photo reflect that? The three amigos (stooges). Am I really that fat? Apparently long hair was not the way to go for me. Are we still that much in love? I sure hope so. Do I still look at her like that? Does she me? Why didn't anybody tell me about the frosting? I wonder if they still remember me? Was the Hawaiian shirt really necessary? If I never met her, would she be happier? Such beautiful children, maybe someday. Way too close to the buffalo, maybe that's why it chased me. So glad that Em took that picture. How many houses ago was that picture? I'm so very sorry it didn't work out. Where did you end up? Are you happy? Note to self, more photos. Did I ever love you, or was it just lust? Did it matter in the end?

This concludes my little experiment in directed stream of thought writing. I'm not going to read this for awhile and check the comments first. Just a note of explanation, "she" definitely refers to various people and this whole post was written while looking at old photo albums. Neat experience. The whole post is up for interpretation and if you think one applies to you, it just might.

By the way, the home scale says 238 and I didn't get to the gym this weekend, but did walk with Sy and did some handymanning at my mom's place this weekend. Will be in the gym this morning with the lying scale.