Pictures

I hate having my picture taken.

Every time I think I am over it, that maybe this one won't freak me out, I am not and it does.

We have a professional photographer in our family.  She whips out that little Kodak at every occasion (or no occasion)  trying to catch a good snap or two.  OK, it's a simple little camera, but the colors are pure and clear and she is a genius at composition.  But when she oohs and aaahs,  I know she is trying not to hurt my feelings.  I may as well fill my cheeks with air, cross my eyes, pull my lower lip over my nose and stick out my tongue.  Awful.

I take a lousy picture and I know it, OK?  Let's face it, I am the least photogenic person in the US of A. Probably Canada, too, maybe even China.  We won't talk about the driver's photo.  I didn't expect to look like a movie star.  I didn't expect to look like Michael Moore in drag, either.

When I look in the mirror I don't see that ugly face that taunts me from the digital box.  Granted, I usually only look at my eyes, but that's beside the point.  I see a softly rounded face with bright eyes and silver hair.  I see dewy skin, a little puffiness that comes with age.  I do not see the sumo wrestler with several chins, a blotchy face and is that a pimple on my nose??  Oh, please just shoot me....

You're so pretty, he says.  Well, what else can he say?  You look fine! he says.  Well, yes, I do, if you want dinner and whatever you will not be truthful this time.  Oh, you look fine! says my friend of many years.  This from a woman whose God-infused joy beams from every pore.  Now that is a beautiful woman,  Nice pic, Ma, says my unnamed son who coughs and turns away so I won't see the snigger.  Be nice, my dear; after all, I gave you life.

Every time I see in a picture what I must look like to the world, I cringe.  My carefully nurtured self esteem plummets.  The flirty attitude disappears.  I want to go back to bed, pull the covers over my head, stay there lest I offend someones senses.

Yes, yes, a bit melodramatic (which I often am).  Even though I have come a very long way in the last year there are still some people and circumstances that set me back.  They lead me to a black hole, and a bitty Kodak shoves me into it. 

Thank you, no, I don't want to be photographed.   It crushes my ego, gnaws at my vanity, magnifies my flaws.  I prefer to see myself in a different light.

One good picture.  Is that too much to ask?