Lo! The drama llama is galloping tantalizingly within my reach. So close! Should I harness its glorious wool or should I let it trot on by? You be the judge. I need some advice, and you need several paragraphs of tedious backstory, so let's get this party rolling.

THE BACK STORY ONE YEAR IN THE PAST: (TW: If you are triggered by eating disorders OR just generally don't care for boring verbose stories you can skip down to PRESENT DAY and be in the clear. The background isn't all that relevant to the facts of the case, just to my feelings, my precious precious feelings.)

A very common thing my dear friend used to do would be to call and tell me what she didn't eat that day. Not in a particularly fun and engaging way (Hey JustASmore, I recently found out cuttlefish flavored crackers are a real thing. And pork flavored oreos!), but as part of her unhealthy relationship with food. Just a list of everything she could have eaten but didn't. She was a professional photographer (as are, according to my facebook feed, approximately 1 in 5 women my age), and would often take pictures of my harness or sports bra, just "in case you didn't know how that shirt made you look." My face was never showing in these pictures, it was literally just FYI YOU ARE FAT HERE IS A PICTURE YOU ARE WELCOME. This is foreshadowing. Please remember these pictures. Photogrofriend's unhealthy relationship with her food and her body eventually escalated into an unhealthy relationship with me. One fine day, I explained to her that I had suffered from disordered eating in college and her constant commentary on MY body and MY eating was something I needed to remove myself from to preserve my mental health. Unfortunately, I had brought photos as a visual aide, and her response was, "but you were so thin." Yeah, so that friendship ended.

Advertisement

The next fine day, I woke up to the sun shining, the bird chirping, and the glorious red flag of facebook notifications. My gym had tagged me in photos. Sweet! Wait, what? I follow the link to see all those pictures of my waist, my shoulders, my harness all those JUSTSOYOUKNOWYOULOOKFATINTHOSECLOTHES photos posted and tagged by the gym. Not only that, but my name is in the caption of the photos, so even untagged my name is attached. I walked straight out the door, already in tears but trying to hold it together, and straight to the gym. A place where you can find me most days a week, a place where I am generally known and generally like, that I support, have volunteered for, bring cupcakes on the regular.

Our conversation:

Me: Some private photos of me were posted without my consent to your facebook page. Could you please remove them?

Helpful young manager: Okay, sure. Anything else we can do for you?

Hahahahahah j/k this was our actual conversation:

Me: Some private photos of me were posted without my consent to your facebook page. Could you please remove them?

Advertisement

Punkass Manager Asshole: No. Any photo in this gym is our property. You signed a waiver.

Me: They weren't actually taken at this gym. They were taken climbing in a national park.

PMA: We will not remove the photos. They were sent to us and are ours now.

Me: GO FIND ME A GROWNUP RIGHT NOW AND TAKE DOWN THESE PHOTOSA grownup was found (gym owner).
Photos were eventually removed. Apology never received. Over the course of the year my relationship with the gym slowly healed, I have several very close friends on staff, and am on friendly joking terms with the owners.

PRESENT DAY

One fine day, also known as yesterday, I see several friends have shared a link from the gym's blog about climbing and beard having. I click on it hoping for a fun, humorous article, and realize that the header picture is of…..me (a woman, and noted not haver of beards). This is a picture from my personal facebook page. In fact, throughout the course of the article there are no less than three of my personal pictures that have been lifted. I mean, they are cute enough pictures of me, if I minded them I wouldn't have put them on facebook, but I never shared them to the gym and they never asked my permission to use them. I don't want to start a fuss, but actually I kinda want to start a fuss. This feels uncool to me. I don't even have a more elegant way to phrase it, it just seems like "not cool guys, not cool."

Advertisement

So this is your reward for reading all that: the joys of advising me. Should I bring it up with someone? If so how?

Pictured: my thoughts on the photos in that article