Tuesday, January 30, 2007

Maybe Sean Penn Was Right


I have known for quite some time that I am not the most photogenic person on earth. I accept this fact, in the same way that oranges are round and Madonna is the Queen of the Universe. Of course, there are many, many horrifying photographic images of me floating out there that I would rather no one ever see.

The first one that comes to mind is an accidental shot of me while sick and bloated in Mexico. Mr. Potato Head had nothing on me that day. Then there was the Orange-themed birthday party, where I wore a fitted orange shirt that did nothing to hide my unfortunate spare tire. (P.S. - Orange looks bad on 95% of the population.) And how can I forget that cruel candid shot taken of me at a cocktail party where it appeared that my jawline had melted into my neck? I was also sitting, never a good angle for anyone. Truly disgusting. I almost cried.

So, when "The Book" arrived at work, I was concerned. The Book contained photographs from the company party, held in December. December, unfortunately, was the month I chose to live entirely off the gift baskets that came into the office almost daily, as if on a conveyor belt.

I was the first person to receive "The Book," so I skimmed through it with a fair amount of hesitation. At first, the pictures were nice. There was even a shot of me with three coworkers holding drinks. I sighed with relief. But a few pages in, there was the shot that should have never been: a dreaded closeup profile as I approached my seat at the dinner table. I happened to be looking down at that moment while smiling, so the result we'll call "Liquored Up Double Chin." I tried to accept Liquored Up Double Chin as the harsh reality of who I am, so I flipped the pages. BAM! Another bad photo. This time, the sadistic photographer came up to me while I was playing the word search game that was passed around. So it's a nice overhead shot of me seriously concentrating on the sheet of paper, as if I'm filling out mortgage paperwork. Horrid.

Now it's personal. This "paparazzi" photographer must die. I remember her from that day and I thought I was invisible enough to not get her attention. But she saw me, and I must have pissed her off, because this is her payback. She snapped away all night long, so were these the best photos available?

At least I've learned some lessons: A) Never underestimate the power of denial. B) Always overestimate the carb count in food. C) If you can not manage A or B, just hide in the bathroom.

1 comment:

Steven said...

Three words: Get photo approval.

Three more words: Fuck the editor.