Werido Cream Puff

**UPDATE** My dear friend Melissa pointed out that I spelled “Weirdo” incorrectly in the title. oops.

It’s easy to forget that you’re weird when you live in New York City.

I think even my Connecticut friends got over it when, at dinner, I would shriek, “No one cut the cake yet! I need to take a picture.” And when it’s as something as special as a once-a-year cream puff at the Big E, well, of course I’m going to photograph it from every angle so I can get the very best shot.

There I was, snapping away, turning the plate, moving the fork, adjusting my camera, Rob waiting patiently because he’s used to all of this, and people started to stare at me. I took photos of everything we ate at the Big E, but the cream puff was the only thing we had at a table with people surrounding us, and I was causing quite a few raised eyebrows. A guy walked up to me and asked, “Are you writing about this?”

“Huh?” I said. I was “in the zone” and was changing my ISO for the fourth time.

“You know. You put it on the internet and then write comments about it and stuff.”

“Oh… yeah. I’m blogging about it.” I stiffened my fingers and moved my hands up and down, my universal and unconscious sign for “blogging”.

“You get paid a lot for that?”

I laughed. “Not quite.”

“Ah. Cool.” He shrugged and walked away, and it was then that I noticed people whispering about me, the weird girl treating her dessert like a Playboy model.  And I remembered that it was weird to take photos of food you just bought, and put my camera away with my cheeks burning.  But why should I be ashamed?  I’m learning.  It’s a good thing.

Ah, well, here’s to us, the weird ones, who take photos that are “ugly” or “boring” in hopes of learning and remembering.  I salute you all with a cream puff.

p.s. if you start a rock band and want to steal the title of this post for your band name, go ahead, and rock ON with your bad self!