Yes, I bought one of those eensy toy video cameras, and here's what the images look like. Sort of the Super-8 of video cameras, I'm thinking. Above is an unretouched .jpg of me taken at 8:40 tonight. Here's the second version, run through color balance, curves, and the watercolour filter in PS:
If only I could Photoshop myself every morning before going to work. Lately I've felt quite discouraged about my looks. There was a time when makeup and hairdos could transform me from a bland suburbanite to a wild punk rock chick, or a luscious club girl, but no more. I don't know when it all changed. Maybe age, maybe putting on weight, maybe lifestyle choices; I just don't know when I lost the chameleon ability. I miss it, a little. I miss pretending to be cute.
I never had the real thing, but at least I used to be able to create the impression I was much better looking than I was. I realize this is utter vanity, but bear with me, okay? Because I'm hardly the only one who has gone through life knowing she was very, very ordinary looking and was able to overcome it with smoke and mirrors. There's always some girl who attracts all the boys, and the other girls just don't understand it. "What do they see in her?" they whisper with annoyance. "She's not even pretty!" That would be me. I knew I wasn't the prettiest girl. That's okay. A lot of times the boys knew it, too. But it didn't matter. I have something else, or I had it. No, I still have it. Not that long ago a friend admitted he fancied me even though he knew I was happily married. Call it personality, charm, joie de vivre, or confidence. I don't quite know how it works but it works. There's only ever been one down side to it.
Sometimes the boys want to explain their inexplicable attraction to me.
This is a very, very, very bad idea. Discourage this if at all possible. For inevitably they blurt out something along the lines of they would never have looked at me twice on the street, or in a crowd, or whatever. That if they hadn't spoken to me they'd have dismissed me as plain. There is no good way of expressing this sentiment, and I urge you to quash any such confessions if you, too, find yourself the surprising object of someone's desire. Trust me, you'll giggle while they try to extricate themselves, but deep inside you'll mourn as the illusion of prettiness is thoroughly destroyed. God knows I value my intelligence, my sense of humor, and my wittiness, but it would be so lovely if just once one of those fellows had fallen for me because of my looks.
Well, it doesn't matter that much now. One boy did fall in love with me for all the right reasons, and I married him. We're growing old together, and there's a great amount of charm and joie de vivre in our lives. So maybe I'm no longer able to convince myself I look pretty. Big deal.
I'll always have Photoshop. Bwahaha.
