Snapshot II

Speaking of photographs...

So, earlier this week the good people at DCTheatrescene wrote an email saying they needed a picture to accompany this little interview blurb thing they are posting for each of the Helen Hayes nominees. And I ask "A picture of me, or one from the show?" hoping they will say the latter, but suspecting that they meant the former, since they already would have several press images from the show.

Yes, me. They need a picture of me.

And I think, yeesh, but, okay, I have some snapshots of myself that I like okay and have on facebook and whatever that I can submit for this. I am not the most photogenic individual ever but I don't hate the way I look in all pictures, so this seems like it will be a not-formidable task.

Ha.

I opened a bunch of the images on my lap-top. I showed my "favorite" picture to a friend.

What do you think of this one?

It doesn't look like you.

What do you mean it doesn't look like me?

I don't know. I would look at that and not know it was you.

This revelation is a little unsettling since this photo has been, for about two years, one of the most flattering shots I have of myself. Or so I thought. Now I realize I liked it because it apparently doesn't look like me at all.

This continues with the next several photos.

That one looks weird because the angle your neck is at is funny.

That one's kind of washed out.

Wait, show me that last one again? Can you make it bigger?

At about this point I have a minor meltdown. All of the photos I planned to use have now been nixed. I start looking at more images in Iphoto. Except now none of them look like me at all. Now they all look like a swarthy-skinned, shiny-faced alien with a big throbbing vein pulsing and swelling in the middle of its forehead.
Ahh. Positive self-image. I knew you when.

My point is. My job doesn't require me to be photogenic. My career is not dependant on me looking good. Thankfully. But even so, the eyes start to play funny tricks. The world is full of shiny images of beautiful people wearing thick layers of makeup and I will never look that perfect. Never, never, never, never. And most of the time I don't care. Most of the time I'd rather spend the time it would take to apply eyeliner doing something else. But then, suddenly, you become hyper aware of how you look for some unexpected reason. You have to wrap your brain around the idea of putting a picture out there for the world to see, and suddenly your face is... well, your face is hard to look at. Your face makes you turn away.

Mothers, your work is cut out for you. Our daughters are worth more than this. So she smiles a big, genuine, joyous smile, and reveals a gap in her teeth. So be it. Isn't it the smile that we should notice, not the gap?