Monday, September 10, 2007

This is my life.

I hate being photographed. I’m not hideous or anything, but I am overly critical… of my hair, my skin, my shape. Every time I see a picture of myself, I quickly look away, or critique it mercilessly. It drives Mike crazy and he makes a point of saying “don’t delete it” every time he takes a picture of me. I do make a point of getting pictures of me with the kids. I have very few pictures of me with my mother when I was young and I wish I had more.

So, given my distaste for pictures featuring moi, imagine my horror when I was asked to have my picture taken for something at work. I was given no notice, and it was on a day when we were moving some boxes and furniture, so I wasn’t exactly dressed in office attire. I didn’t even ask where the picture would be posted. I suppose I imagined it in some obscure little newsletter or scrapbook.

I arrived at work Tuesday to find that it accompanied the top story on the university’s web site. If you typed in the university’s url on Tuesday, my picture would pop up. Tuesday, the day after Labour Day. The day when every student logged on to get the calendar of events for Frosh Week. Did I mention that the picture was HORRENDOUS! I’m not the only one who thought so. People were saying “nice picture” in that drippy, sing-songy, sarcastic way mean people have. My hair was naturally bad, but the worst was that I looked huge. There were two other guys in the picture who were short. They were standing further back in the picture, which made them look smaller and me like giant. I looked beefy too. Thick arms, thick legs… beefy. I was mortified and I was thrilled that the story had dropped off the front page by Friday.

Enter Saturday. I was at a soccer tournament with the kids and several people told me they saw my picture. Really? Hmm. Why would they be looking on the university’s website? Then someone clarified; the picture was in the newspaper. What? Are you kidding me? Sure enough, we picked up the paper on the way home and there was my big beefy self, smiling like a moron in a giant colour version of the picture. Kill me now.

This is how my life works. It would never happen that I would take a good picture and have it plastered everywhere. I will never run into someone from my past when I look good. No, I’ll run into an old crush when I’m make-up free, wearing a baseball hat with three screaming kids in tow. Just imagine all the people who saw that awful picture and commented “time has not been kind to her.” I want a do-over. WAAHH!

5 comments:

Beck said...

Ug. Did I write this post? I so hate having my picture taken, especially at family gatherings - all the women in my family are 5'2" and 90 pounds, while I'm this mighty bovine giantess. Sexy!

Misty said...

I recently had my picture in the paper, which was just a head shot, because I spoke at a local town meeting thing. I looked about 200 pounds heavier than I actually am with the various wobbling chins. Good god. Mighty bovine giantess, indeed.

Tessie said...

I have 1 (one) childhood picture of my mother that includes both me and my sister. And yet I need to work on being in more pictures too.

Are you one of those super-important job-holders who needs a HEADSHOT for work?

LoriD said...

"Mighty Bovine Giantess" my new favourite moniker.

Tessie - They've been trying to get my headshot for years! My luck, they'll just cut out my face from this uggers picture and use that!

Laural Dawn said...

Oh No!!!
That's horrible.
I always do corporate activities, and so many times I've had my picture up - like at our Christmas lunch over and over on the PowerPoint presentation (with 400 people watching). Awful.
I feel for you.
I switched departments and now am in marketing so the good news is that I have some say over the pictures. (and I insist they use flattering pictures of people.)