I know it sounds superficial and flighty.
Yesterday I went to renew my licence. I was dreading it all morning. I just knew the picture would be everything I hated about taking pictures. The fluorescent light has a way of picking up on my barely-there wrinkles and making me appear to be a witch in some Grimm fairytale, greasy hair and all.
When I finally sat down for my picture, after walking a few windblown blocks to find an ATM that wouldn’t charge me a ridiculous fee because I forgot the DMV doesn’t accept debit cards and the $15 I had on me wasn’t enough for a new licence, I was not holding out much hope for the photo.
I attempted a quick finger brush of the hair and re-application of some lip gloss. I appreciate the tiny hand mirror they place there on the wall, but unless I can see my whole face in it, I’m really just guessing.
I sat down in front of the blue curtain with my best guess of a smile (not too happy, not to stoic and not frowning, seriously, because sometimes when I smile it looks like I am frowning. I don’t understand how my face does it, but it is all over the wedding album)
Did you get that? She took the picture before she said ‘one.’ How fair is that?!
Regardless, the result didn’t turn out bad, with the exception of some wider than normal eyes, the flash caught me unaware.
Today I am thankful that after at least two decades of daily fussing with my hair, skin and make-up I finally have a routine and assemblage that allows me to take decent DMV photos.
It really is the little things.