There was a plastic surgeon on TV the other night who was saying that if women would like to know what they should look like after a successful facelift (no "cat" eyes or lips pulled into a tight, Joker-like smile), all they need is a hand-held mirror.
He said to lie flat on your back and look up into the hand-held mirror. That's how a facelift should look - subtle and natural. Then he said to sit up, put the mirror on your lap, lean forward and look directly down into it to see how you might look in 10 years if you don't get a facelift.
No kidding, the image staring up at me frightened me. All I needed was a poison apple and I could have doubled as the wicked witch in "Snow White." The doctor also suggested taking "selfies" of each look and then comparing the two. Heck, I wasn't about to go 10 feet near a camera after seeing what I saw in that mirror, because the last thing I wanted was to immortalize it in any way.
Just the word "selfie" makes me shudder, mainly because I have friends who constantly want to take them when I have a mouthful of food at a restaurant or I'm outside in the wind with my hair standing straight up on end...and then they post them on social media for the world to see.
When I was younger, like in my teens and 20s, I loved having my photo taken. In fact, you might say I was a real ham. But as I aged, the camera gradually became my enemy. That's the reason why, back when I was writing a column for several newspapers, people began to ask me when I was going to change my photo.
Personally, I didn't think using the same photo for 15 years was all that long. I mean, Dear Abby used hers for about 150 years, so I'd have been perfectly content to keep mine for at least another 15.
“You’re the one who writes the column in the newspaper?” several people asked when they met me in person, not even attempting to conceal their obvious looks of surprise. "You really don't look like your photo. Is it from your high-school graduation?"
The truth is, it's never been easy
for me to get a decent photo of myself. In every group shot, I'm the one with
her eyes closed, mouth hanging open, nose crinkled as if smelling something
that died, or looking everywhere but at the camera.
One of the biggest problems with trying to get an updated headshot of myself for my column was I usually had to ask my husband (rest his soul) to take it. And believe me, a photo session with him always was a true test of patience...something I sorely lack.
For one thing, most people hold the camera up to their right eye when they snap a photo. My husband always used his left. The end result was a bunch of off-center photos with one side of my body completely missing. It looked as if I'd cut off a former "significant other" so he wouldn't be in the photo.
So I purchased a digital camera with a view-screen on it, certain it would solve the problem. I mean, whatever could be seen on the screen would be in the photo. Simple, I thought...even for someone like my husband.
Once again, I'd figured wrong.
Even though I specifically told him I needed a close-up headshot for my column, the first photo he snapped, which he deemed as “perfect,” had my entire body in it, along with the chair I was sitting on.
“You call that a headshot?” I asked him. “You can even see what color shoes I'm wearing!"
“Well, your head's in it, isn’t it?” he answered. “Just cut out the rest!”
He also had a problem with the camera’s view-screen.
“Why can’t I see you in it?" he complained.
“Because you’re aiming the camera at the blank wall over my head,” I said, rolling my eyes...just as he lowered the camera and snapped the photo.
The shot made me look as if I had white eyeballs and was on the verge of having a seizure.
Also, I was under the impression that when someone is holding a camera, his finger poised on the button, and he asks, “Ready?” it usually means he is about to snap the shot.
Not my husband. To him, “Ready?” meant at least another 30 seconds of trying to aim the camera "just right." In the process, he'd inevitably move his hand and then wouldn't be able to find the button again. This resulted in my getting frustrated and asking him, as I continued to smile through gritted teeth, “Well, what the heck is taking you so long?” just as he finally snapped the photo.
That explains how I amassed a collection of photos with my expression looking as if I’m preparing to go wrestle a grizzly bear.
After posing for about 950 photos, I finally chose one I thought was "passable." It's the photo that's at the top of this column.
It's been there for about 12 years now, and mark my words, it's going to remain there for at least the next 20.
# # #
FREE E-BOOKS!
CLICK TO DOWNLOAD FREE ON AMAZON
CLICK TO DOWNLOAD FREE ON SMASHWORDS
No comments:
Post a Comment