No one really cares about your new selfie.

I have been following Debra for a while now. She is a chic woman, an avid gardener, and color consultant. I honestly don’t know what that means, but if I were to harken a guess it would be an absolute stranger who would say brutally honest things to me like, “For some reason black makes you look fat,” or “Your aura doesn’t jive in pastels.”

How do I know Debra? Well, she’s a friend of a friend of a friend. I keep her around because she amuses me on a daily basis. You see, Debra loves to argue, and post information without content, context, or contemplation. And I highlight contemplation. She is always getting into fights with other people online, about everything from the importance of pedicures, to Donald Trump’s hair, to how much food you should feed a dog that weighs less than a wet napkin.

Lately though, Debra seems to have been posting a lot of contour shots. Yes, Debra’s most likely fallen victim to those addictive reels. Especially those that tout the perfect way to take a selfie. For the past month my phone has been blowing up with notices that a friend has been posting new content. Debra has become a selfie junkie.

Debra dramatic cool, Debra silver tone, Debra noir.

Debra in her SUV.

Debra on the beach.

Debra perhaps looking at the seagull that just ate her lunch.

Debra looking at the camera.

Debra looking away.

Debra pensive, Debra jovial, Debra surprised.

Debra incontinent? Wait, no it’s just the lighting- my bad.

Debra fully made up, Debra au-natural (but with lipstick).

Debra with her kids, but they’ve been cropped out. Only half of their faces remain.

Debra severely close up.

Debra using forced perspective. Oh my god look, she’s holding all her girlfriends in her outstretched palm. Oh, Debra stop! You’re too much!

Debra right side only — always the right side.

Debra looking to the sky — never down — that’s just a double chin tragedy.

Debra on vacation, Debra at the lake, Debra at Costco.

Debra looking out a window on a rainy day at her own reflection. Debra is a true god damned artist.

Then the comments roll in.

“You are so pretty.”

“Looking good girl!”

“Oh my god, I love your lipstick!”

“You never age.”

“Where did you get that blouse?”

“Gorgeous!”

“Flawless! ♥️♥️♥️”

“You are a goddess!”

“I love your haircut. We need to get together girl!”

“Oh my god stop — you are amazing!”

“Time stopped for you. Perfect!”

“Jaw droppingly beautiful! You look just like you did in high school!”

“Your skin is timeless!”

“Someone call that fashion police, cause it’s a crime how great you look!”

57 likes, 27 loves.

Debra double hearts them all.

I can’t help but interject with my own review, percolated out of annoyance and blisteringly blunt. I am just so tired of seeing her freakin’ mug. I know other people are too, but at that moment I felt it was my duty to break the chain of feigned admiration. Pour vinegar down the hole, rip off the band aid too soon, install the needed tripwire. God, I wanted to say, “No one really cares about your new selfie, Debra.” But instead I wimped out -

“Dying to see some feet pics!” Wink emoji. Foot emoji. Wink emoji.

Needless to say, I didn’t get a heart from Debra.