Just Photo Shoot Me

Because nothing embarrasses me and I decided two years ago to just put everything out there - warts and all - and let you decide whether I’m weird or actually certifiable, I’m going to admit that I asked my husband to take a nice photo of me for my blog.

Until now, I had been using my face cut out of group shots. Sometimes I had to Photoshop corn kernels and lint that had stuck to my hair. Most of my good portraits had me squeezed in between other people’s shoulders.

I’m really not as vain as you may think, even though a) I wanted my own personal photo shoot and b) I am now writing a blog about getting my picture taken.

I asked my husband to do the honors because I have a bitching camera right now, as good as any professional photographer who would have the time and interest in taking my photo for free. Plus my husband subscribes to the “Quantity Begets Quality” philosophy of photography, which means he takes thousands of pictures per sitting sometimes not even looking into the viewfinder, and among all those, a few award winners are sure to show up.

Many of the photos were taken when I wasn’t ready.

Some were taken to accentuate the rash I have on my neck. (I have a cream for that. I’m working on it.)

And what I was wearing.

(Neither of the above pictures were cropped. These were the actual pictures he took.)

And the neighbor’s house.

Then he started to just snap away, catching me in ridiculous poses. “Work it, work it,” he said.  So I worked it.

Unfortunately, those are my sexy faces. Even the one that looks like I’m doing a Dick Cheney impersonation. Moving on . . .

Can you see the kick I was getting out of this afternoon?

The photo shoot started to get exasperating.

And badly lit.

Just before we ran out of light and patience, he started to get some good shots. Here’s what I ended up with:

All in all, it was a successful photo shoot. I told my husband I’d return the favor and take a photo of him for his work blog. I’m going for something along these lines:

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