Likely Normal

There exists a special breed of social media terrorist who delights in tagging you in photos where you look like a sleep-deprived raccoon who just witnessed a crime. These digital sadists operate with the precision of a sniper, waiting until you’re mid-bite into an oversized sandwich or caught in a blink that makes you look possessed before slapping your name on it for all 1,200 of their followers to enjoy. The excuses are always the same – “It’s candid!” they’ll claim, as if that explains why they felt the world needed to see you with three chins and sauce on your shirt.

The worst offenders are the ones who tag you in decade-old photos during your professional job hunt, ensuring potential employers see your 2012 scene phase in all its neon-haired glory. Or the “helpful” relatives who tag you in unflattering family reunion shots where your smile suggests you’re being held hostage. There’s even that one friend who somehow always captures you mid-sneeze, turning your face into a Picasso painting of contorted horror, then has the audacity to caption it “LOL, Look at you.”

These tag-happy maniacs have turned our social media profiles into digital ransom boards, where our most unfortunate moments are held hostage for likes. The notification that you’ve been tagged now inspires the same dread as a “we need to talk” text. And heaven help you if it’s a group photo where everyone else looks great – you’ll be that one blurry gremlin in the corner, forever memorialized as the visual equivalent of a wrong note in a symphony.

The only defense is constant vigilance and the nuclear option of untagging yourself within 0.3 seconds of posting. Or better yet – revenge tagging them in their own childhood bowl-cut photos with the caption “Glow Up!” Because in the war of social media shame, sometimes you have to fight fire with a flamethrower.