I’ve been in need of a professional stock portrait photo forever. My standard profile pic, a bathroom selfie of me holding in one hand my Lenovo (as opposed to iPhone) with the flash in the process of firing and in the other hand a wriggling cat, isn’t probably inductive to presenting me as a trustworthy professional whom you’d hire. Unless you’re looking to hire a stand-up comedian or a cat herder.
Now, get the mental image of my bathroom selfie out of your mind, I was just testing your gullibility. Of course I don’t use the above described photo on my profiles, I don’t even have a photo like this. See, this proves that I am untrustworthy after all. Which is a harsh way of saying that I use my right to exploit poetic licence.
Today I had an appointment with an acquaintance who happens to be a professional photographer. I arranged with him to have my new and improved business style portrait photos taken. Naturally, I also required that he reduce in post-processing those bodily parts that need reducing (my baby bump, which is not a baby bump) and add to the bodily parts that need expanding (the above-the-not-baby-bump area).
I took a train to get to the photographer’s studio and a suspicious bag containing an extra outfit for the photoshoot. The idea is to try to impress on the customer the misled belief that I own more than one set of work appropriate clothes. I struggled with the unwieldy bag during the trip and was expecting that someone would alert the police that there was a creepy woman on the train with a bag potentially containing explosives.
The worst part is that I have one of those faces that always look guilty – my constant facial expression is like I just stole your kitten – and the bag did actually contain dangerous weapons in the form of stilettos. I nearly murdered myself by mistake when I was handling the heels and was trying to wear them for the photo – otherwise, sadly, I find that heels have an adverse effect on my balance and don’t wear them.
As I got out of the train and was waiting for a bus connection, a fellow creepy guy with a suspicious bag approached me. Given our shared baggage, he clearly felt a sense of affiliation. He appeared like he’d had a shower this week and his clothes probably didn’t originate from a dumpster, so I decided I wouldn’t run away at once. He introduced himself as a hippie. What the heck? I remained suspicious but let him talk.
It turned out that the self-proclaimed hippie was earning for his pot by selling Chinese luck charms, which was what his bag contained (besides pot). As he was explaining the beneficial effects of his charms, a bus pulled to the kerb and nearly ran him over. That much to luck charms. I pointed out the discrepancy, but he insisted that without the charm, he’d be dead now. Whatever. I appreciated that he didn’t pretend he was collecting money for charity. He appreciated that I appreciated it. We had a charming chat which ended abruptly as I made it clear that I wasn’t giving him any money.