Can You Make Me Look Like A Super Model?

Once I found out that my book was going to be published I needed to get a photo taken for my Web site and the back of the book. Who knew this would prove to be the most difficult thing about getting published? Personally, I don’t think anyone can take a good picture of me—not that I let anyone with a camera within a mile of my face–but with a book launch looming, I had to do something. In hindsight, I should have become a writer when I was younger and a lot more photogenic, but things happen in their own sweet time.  

So I asked another writer friend where she had her picture taken and she told me and then she told me the price. Being a frugal New Englander I was rightfully aghast. I emailed my sister and she said, come on over and I’ll take a few shots for half that! Kidding, right? She wasn’t going to charge me, was she?

I took my trusty little digital camera over to her house. It takes wonderful pictures of flowers up close, so this would be easy. My sister was otherwise occupied, so next in line was my 10-year-old nephew. A smart kid, and I would get to spend some quality time with him. We went outside and he proceeded to snap photos of Auntie standing by the tree, Auntie standing by a bush. The problem was, while tall for his age, he’s still just a bit shorter than I am so all the photos looked like someone was sitting on the ground looking up at me. Not a very flattering angle, what with the age thing and gravity taking its toll. This wasn’t working so we moved into the house where I sat on the sofa with him across from me. And then he went over to a floor lamp and unplugged it and moved it right next to where I sat.

“What are you doing?” I asked this 10-year-old Richard Warren wannabe?

“Lighting,” he said to me with a worldly air.

I started laughing so hard that we had to end our photography session.

The next week, it was my sister’s turn behind the camera. Again, nothing turned out.

I finally bit the bullet and called the first professional photographer on my list. “We’re going out of business. Closing our store this week,” the man told me. “You should have called sooner.” Yes, I think with a sigh, perhaps about twenty years sooner.

I moved on down the list and called the next photographer in my area. The price for taking my picture would buy me a small car. I was getting desperate with only one name left to call, a woman who conveniently had her studio close to my office. We talked for a bit and she quoted me a price that sounded reasonable. I told her I would check my schedule and email later in the day with some times that would work. I checked my calendar, found a free Saturday morning, and sent off an email with a list of questions—did she think she could air brush me to within an inch of my life, make my eyes look bigger, elongate my neck, and take ten years off my face?

I’m still waiting to hear back.