Well, it’s too late, now, you’ve missed them.
Social media has made me careless. Not gonna lie. I make fun of paranoid people all the time, particularly since I got involved with managing a Facebook page and a blog, because all the things that used to be so important on my personal profile don’t even faze me now. I have friends who have never gotten beyond it – they still take it personally when someone who claims to love them doesn’t like every single one of their pictures of food, or “Like If You H8 Cancer!!!” memes, or housework updates they post throughout the day. They over-interpret other people’s posts, certain that they are being passive-aggressively dissed.
I don’t pay attention to that anymore. Short of outright trolling, I don’t notice much.
My goals with regard to my online presence aren’t that complicated. Write intelligent, relatable, sometimes humorous content that people are willing to pay me to create.
And keep my boobs off of social media.
I feel like I may have backslid on that second one a bit.
It began, as these stories sometimes do, in a massage chair while I was getting a pedicure. Those chairs are pretty amazing – but the percussion setting was clearly designed by a horny twelve year-old boy. As I sat there soaking my feet, I looked down to see more side-to-side movement than Tawny Kitaen chasing a spotlight. That was an 80’s reference. Look it up.
So I did what most people do in those situations. I got out my phone and made a video. Of my boobs. In a massage chair. In public. I just held the phone out a little ways and pretended they were watching Netflix. Totally believable. No one noticed, I’m certain. Then I sent it to my husband.
I am normally neurotic about stuff like this. I think that every misstep and bad decision I make is recorded on hidden cameras and used for late night drinking games by security personnel. I just wanted to know if all that jiggling was as obvious as it felt.
It was. It was almost mesmerizing – I think I may have hypnotized the entire As Seen On TV aisle.
And according to my husband, a little sexy. Not gonna argue with that.
So I did what most people do in these situations. I decided to make a GIF.
As I sat there in my vibrating chair, having changed the setting to “weed whacker,” I searched for GIF-making apps on my phone. I quickly narrowed it to three using customer reviews, and then to one by shortest download time.
Always carefully research apps before using them. Make sure you know what you are getting into.
The app I chose allowed you to use as much or as little of the video as you wanted, you could speed up the action or slow it down, and you could change the size of the frame and the filter. Just set up a profile with an email address, and awesome! I made my first GIF from the massage chair clip and sent it to my husband. An endless loop of my hooters shaking like an Eddie Money video. (Google it.) Then I deleted it.
He was appreciative, although he asked me to warn him first next time. Because *sarcastic air quotes* “Project meetings.” Whatever.
Once I got home, I had a great idea. “This will be hilarious!” I thought, which rarely ends well for me, but I hope to turn that around some day. Not today, but someday.
I wanted to be a little more….creative with my boob GIF’s. I am a very creative person. Have I mentioned I painted them to look like storm troopers? Sort of like that, only with less paint…and less time spent planning.
Less clothing, actually.
None, in fact.
Oh, stop. They are just boobs. Besides, I used a dummy email address when I downloaded the app. Totally safe.
What do you mean, why do I have a dummy email address?
Same reason you do.
Anyway. The GIF was not bad. Two thumbs up. So I sent it to my husband. And then I deleted it. The thing I liked about this app is that you have complete control – you can make whatever GIF you want, and you can choose whether or not to post it to any or all of the big social media feeds, which I did not. It absolutely does not work the opposite way. Nope. It doesn’t automatically post publicly to your profile within the app unless you tell it NOT to. Because that would just be silly.
That was last Thursday.
My cats are stupid. They would be the source of some great GIF’s. So I was going to do that today.
Just needed to take a video or two, then upload them to the app. Oh, look! I have followers! And lots of little hearts!
Followers? Why do I have followers? On what? HOW many? That’s more than I have on Twitter….
Ninety-three people liked my GIF? HOW many people re-GIF’d it? What? WHAT GIF? I DON’T HAVE ANY GIFS!!! I DELETED THEM!
Panicking seemed like wasted energy at that point. I spent several minutes watching the undeleted, public GIF of my unclothed, unfettered boobs. Then I deleted it for real. The original GIF, from the massage chair, was gone – so I just missed a step when I deleted this one.
I am the Lucille Ball of the internet.
But I had to tell my husband, just in case. He hates social media. Wants nothing to do with it, uses “Brett Favre” as a verb. And he said, and I quote:
“That’s kinda hot.”
And high-fived me.
We’ve been married a long time.
I only really have one question. I didn’t follow anyone. I didn’t realize I could. There is no profile picture, or tags. My screen name is not “HI! I HAVE BOOB GIFS AND AM STUPID!”
Yet an alarming number of people found and followed me, and cyber-slobbered all over my funbags. I don’t know how that many people found me in three days. Mostly men. Shocking.
What the hell were they searching????
So there it is – my should-have-been-unnecessary lesson on being careful on social media: Nice boobs travel fast.
And they are nice. Ninety-three people said so.