If I had a dollar for every "before" and "after" weight loss shot in which a person stands sideways holding out their giant pants, I'd be a very rich lady. The reality is, I'm not rich. And those "before" and "afters" do little to celebrate the real achievement and change that comes with dramatic weight loss.
Then along came The Beth Project and — bam! — a genre was reinvented.
When Elizabeth Beard began her weight loss journey, she enlisted the help of photographer buddy Blake Morrow. He didn't disappoint. Two years and 150 shed pounds later, the result is far from boring and hackneyed.
“I really didn’t want to do ‘Here’s me in front of a door,’ and two years later ‘Look, more door!” said Beard, who underwent gastric bypass in 2012.
Morrow flexed a creative muscle, depicting Beard in various characters, meshing their mutual love of pop culture, his photographic talent and her theatre background.
The Beth Project was born. Particularly surreal and symbolic is the shot of her kicking her own big butt into shape in the boxing ring.
In case you were unaware, the "Dad Bod" is the new hot ticket after 17 year-old Mackenzie Pearson penned a 500-word manifesto called "Why Girls Love The Dad Bod" for Odyssey. In "Dad Bod," Pearson confessed her admiration for the physique that is "a nice balance between a beer gut and working out," the product of going to the gym occasionally but also drinking "heavily on the weekends" and "eating eight slices of pizza at a time." (Wait, I thought this was about real dads, not frat boys...)
Rest assured, there is life after death—on Facebook, at least. The social media site has now rolled out its legacy settings in Canada, so that your profile page can live on even when you die.
On the face of it, the legacy function sounds morbid, but it's clearly become a necessity after countless people have died, leaving their profiles (and possibly a number of contacts) in a kind of virtual limbo. Seems we all need an executor to handle our social media affairs just as we need someone we trust to execute our last will and testament.
"We hope this work will help people experience loss with a greater sense of possibility, comfort and support," read a Facebook statement during the U.S. launch earlier this year.
Typically, once a death is verified, the word "remembering" will appear next to the user's name on their profile page. Under the new settings, Canadians can then choose whether to have their page deleted posthumously, or to nominate their own legacy contact over 18, who may post a memoriam notice and/or memorial service details.
Though the role may change in the future, the legacy contact will be granted permission to accept or deny new friend requests (though why you'd want to friend a dead person smacks of "Weekend at Bernie's") and update the deceased's profile picture.
More practical is the option of a legacy contact to request and download a copy of a user's Facebook archive. Yes, all those photos and prized moments don't have to vanish in the ether, which is a sure comfort to family and friends who predominantly share memories online.
What the legacy contact won't be able to do is log in and change any previously posted information, read private messages or remove existing friends. So even though your last moment is the last thing you want to think about on a sunny Spring day, take a moment to get it sorted. Just whatever you do, please don't nominate me as your legacy contact. Because - as the saying goes in social media land - I can't even.
Here's how to add your legacy contact:
You tell me: Would you like to see your profile deleted or live on without you?