A week ago, I had no idea that having a personalized emoji was even a thing, and now I am ready for an emoji makeover.
It all started with Connie’s “I got this!” emoji. The morning she sent that first superhero emoji, incredibly Connie-like and perfectly apt for the moment, she was embarking on her latest adventure: surgery to remove a lobe of her lung. During her hospital stay, she sent a number of others. At the time, I thought she just happened to find cartoon images that looked like her and said what she wanted to say. How lucky was that?
Because in my mind, these were emojis:
When I look back (old screenshots below), I now see that my sister had been communicating this way for some time, but I had never even considered she had made an emoji look like herself on purpose and then had it express her thoughts. Who knew?
The fact that she “happened” to find this same serendipity time after time didn’t create an “aha!” moment for me. No. Connie had to tell me she’d made her emoji. (Even then, I was envisioning great talent on her part, not a Bitmoji app that made it easy.)
Well, the Bitmoji app made it somewhat easy. I spent a rare lunch hour attempting to make my own. Luckily, I had a mirror at my desk, because I had to inspect my face — shape? skin tone? chin? nose? eye shape? eye size? eye color? hair color, length, style? lines around the eyes? mouth? nose? I had never looked at myself that closely.
Choosing hair that looked like mine was difficult — in part because I still think myself a blonde though I turned more of a honey brown years ago and in part because I couldn’t find a ponytail with bangs, my go-to look. (Apparently, my “style” isn’t considered stylish enough for Bitmoji.)
Eventually, however, I completed my choices and then sought Connie’s approval of my finished emoji.
Then I looked in the mirror and compared what I saw there with my emoji on the screen. Huh. My emoji was better looking than me.
The next day confirmed it. I attended a Strategic Communications Academy class that meets about once a month. One of the day’s preliminary exercises was to take a blank sheet of paper and draw a person at your table. Despite using purple ink and not having enough time to draw teeth, I drew the girl across the table, and she looked rather lifelike and attractive.
The girl next to me drew me:
She apologized and said she wasn’t much of an artist, but I have to admit she captured “my look,” probably better than my emoji had. It wasn’t a pretty picture.
So I did what any sane human with a better-looking emoji counterpart would do. I called for a hair appointment. I figured it was time for a change — and I admit I was tempted to show my hairdresser my emoji and ask for an “emoji makeover.” Instead, I said this:
“If you didn’t know me at all and had the opportunity to cut my hair, how would you cut it?”
And with that, my hairdresser went to work.
Not quite an emoji makeover, but close: