Before the dental hygienists or dentists in the crowd get defensive about this picture, let me say I’m all for oral health. I brush a minimum of twice daily. I floss. I do it for myself, and also because Hilary Wagner would probably sic her rats on me if I didn’t. (What? You didn’t think she got those lovely chompers by accident, do you?)
The picture to the left, however, is only slight less terrifying to me than what I must face in the next week, and why I’m coming to you guys for advice. A photo. I haz to get one. It can be no longer avoided.
My sister, L — one of those naturally gorgeous women — assures me it’s only a matter of planning and patience. “Get your hair done this weekend,” she says. (And ignores my quirked eyebrow.)
“I’ll reintroduce you to makeup.” (Ditto for the lady-like snort.)
“Mr. Bean has to go.” (Boo! Hiss. This is the only shirt I still possess with the power to make men eye my northern region with interest.)
Then she said she’d put me in a setting where I felt comfortable and let the camera roll. Somehow I don’t think she meant behind a house-sized brownie.
I asked a few other friends about what might constitute an appropriate set-up, because even while fulfilling my sibling duty to irritate, I knew L made valid points. Personal grooming is good. Breaking old phobias better. Heck, give me the right context for a photo shoot and I might unwittingly have fun.*
Jen K. Blom thought I could peek out from behind a stack of books — a fabulous suggestion. If this were six months ago. 🙁 In this day of iPads and e-readers, I figure I’ve got three weeks before the young ‘uns will say, “Mommy, what’s that silly lady hiding behind?”
Other places I feel at home, but have already discarded:
1. The library or my office — same problem as the book stacks
2. Grocery store — ’cause nothing says “hip and cool writer” like standing in front of kumquats
3. A cat-hair covered sofa
4. The laundry room
5. My bed
Yeah, that last one has me particularly heartbroken. So what’s left? I’m stumped, peeps. That’s why I’m here, appealing to your collective wisdom and ingenuity. You, who know me ever so much better than my family, might well suggest the perfect venue for my Writer Unboxed photo. No pressure, or anything. Feel free to ignore my desperate plight. Just know that once this photo is launched, if it’s a dismal failure and I’m roundly mocked, I’m taking you all with me. 😉
*Context, in this case, is understood to involve an evening with Gerard Butler, Daniel Craig, or someone else with melty eyes. Your choice. I aim to be flexible.