Picture this. You're at the beach, in your bathing suit, and You. Look. Good. You NEVER feel this way, but here you are looking like a snack. You look at your best friend. She's sitting in a beach chair, sunglasses on and hair piled high in an impossibly beautiful messy bun; a crown fit for the queen she is. You've seen each other through every crisis imaginable: breakups, breakdowns, food disorders, natural disasters, the works. You're sisters in every sense of the word, but blood. You ask her if she could take a photo of you with your phone.

Of course, she says. And of course, you knew she would. Because she loves you and wants every happiness in the world for you.

You tussle your hair. You quickly string the clasp of your necklace to the base of your neck—mustn't take too much time, she's doing you a favor—and you pose: triangle arms and peace signs soaring.


'Here you go!' she says unironically as she hands your phone back to you. One photo. She didn't bother standing up. She just...sat there. It's not even straight? Et tuBrute???

What would have been your iconic Marilyn Monroe, white-dress-over-a-subway-grate moment, is a blobfish in a bikini. She might as well finish you off and use the front facing camera. But you say nothing and this once perfect moment slips away like sand between your buttcrack.

That is why you hire me. I will straddle lava for the perfect shot. I climb ladders, trees, rocks, searching for the perfect angle and I do this for EVERY SHOT. Why? Because I want every happiness in the world for you.