True Confessions

I was just looking at my official picture — the one I use on this blog — and I have decided it is time for a confession: I don’t look like that.  First of all, in real life my face is not pumpkin-orange, and my neck is not the color of an embalmed cadaver.  Maybe it doesn’t look that way on your computer, but it does on mine — pumpkin/cadaver.  It is our camera’s fault, and I was too cheap to shell out to Glamour Shots.

Secondly, in real life I wear glasses at least part of the time.  When I was young I always wore them to avoid bumping into walls and other dangerous objects.   But, although old age has not always been kind to me, my eyes have improved.  I can now read without glasses, and I only occasionally bump into things when not wearing them.  We tried taking the picture with the spectacles on, but there were flashes of light showing up in odd places, so I decided the do-it-yourself portrait would be sans glasses.

Thirdly, I brushed out some of the wrinkles with my handy-dandy photo-correcting program.  Nice little tool.  I like the reduced-wrinkle look!  Too bad the software couldn’t do anything for the pumpkin/ cadaver issues.  But people read this blog when they want to laugh, so they might as well laugh at the picture as well.

(I learned the evil little practice of photo enhancement from one of my friends,  but she is more radical than I am.  She wipes out her double chin completely, and replaces her left eye by flipping a copy of her right eye and plopping it in where the left one used to hang out.  She also creates family portraits by taking twenty bazillion pictures of them all and then cutting out each kid’s best shot and pasting them all together.  You’d think she could get one shot out of twenty bazillion where they were all behaving and smiling nicely together, so that she wouldn’t have to do all the pasting, but you don’t know this family.  I do, and I understand.)

I thought about posting a picture of my daughter instead.  She is young and oh, so beautiful!  Everyone would have wondered how many facelifts it took for a woman in her fifties to accomplish that look.  It would have been fun!  But alas.  Susan would not have spoken to her mother ever again.  She would have been embarrassed to have such story-telling associated with her lovely person — even though she spins a good yarn herself.

Someday I will find a way to put together a better picture or else fork out to Glamour Shots, but in the meantime, I had to ease my guilty conscience by confessing.  Now tell me you don’t doctor your pictures a little here and there!

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