A new purpose

Thank you, Maryanne for your direction in your last comment. I had glanced at Dooce's site when she wrote the post on bershon, but I didn't look at the pictures. Tonight, I did and I realized... I have been bershon my whole life and didn't know it. I love this description of it from the person who coined the phrase.

Bershon is pretty much how you feel when you’re 13 and your parents make you wear a Christmas sweatshirt and then pose for a family picture, and you could not possibly summon one more ounce of disgust, but you’re also way too cool to really even DEAL with it, so you just make this face like you smelled something bad and sort of roll your eyes and seethe in a put-out manner.

From the time I was about 12, until I was about 20, I was bershon. I mean, not just a little. I was bershon the WHOLE TIME. I even slept bershon. Any picture that anyone managed to take of me was surly and mean and looked as though (if it were legal and I wouldn't get grounded) I would gladly walk up to the camera and break the neck of the photographer in one small flick of my wrist.

I am now going to collect pictures and show them to you all. I mean, something that foul should not be kept to oneself.