How I spent last night: running around my apartment, looking in a small hand mirror, and screaming. Over. And over.
Why'd this sad state of events come to pass? Because I am an utter spaz who should never play poker. Ever. See, in one of my photography workshop classes, we had to do portraits. Easiest way to do portraits is to take them of each other...which led to someone first trying to take one of me on the fly...which led to my reflex action of throwing my arm in front of my face and screaming, "Gaaaaah, don't DO that!" in the middle of the street.
From that single moment of extreme subtlety, my teacher managed to discern that I really, really, really don't like having my picture taken. I don't! I'm not overly fond of my face, I've gained weight from not being able to walk (and from, ya know, food), and I just don't like being exposed in that way. Mind, I didn't like having my picture taken when I was 21 and a size 3, so I've pretty much always been picture-avoidant. It's just my thing. My nose is funny, I have no chin (from the cleft palate, I have an abnormally small jaw -- I really do have no chin) and...gah!
I did make it through the portrait class, and even sat through the critique with my face blown up on a big screen...cringing...behind my hair. Moment of Subtlety #2: When one is hiding behind one's hair and muttering "ebbeh," there might be an issue! It was then that my teacher began muttering about self-portraits, in a general kind of way.
The muttering reached a dull roar the next week, when I made the mistake of wearing a bright orange shirt to class. Here is how some of my classmates' minds worked: "Hmmm, this street is dreary. Oh, there is a bright spot of color! It's Roe and her orange shirt! Must take a picture of her!" Lather, rinse, repeat, hide behind hair and mutter during critique.
Then came Saturday, when we were running (or, in my case, gimping) around Central Park and at one point, my teacher decided to take pictures of me. He thought they were flattering, I was my usual "Gah!" : hide :. At the end of class, he came up to me and said, "You. Self-portrait for Thursday."
!!!
I did ask him if it needed to be literal or figurative...I'd had some demented notion about the shoes of cuteness poised on a windowsill...but decided it was too twee. And the answer I got was really, "Do your face." Hence, running around, screaming, calls of panic to trusted friends. I did quash my immature impulse to shoot myself wearing a mask, or any other means of concealment. Aren't y'all proud that at almost-39, I'm so mature? >:P
So I shot some stuff last night -- I got two that might be usable -- but they were shot on auto so I know I'll get creamed for that. I threw it on auto because I was freaking and wanted to make some part of this a little easier. However, I've since realized that I should try it on manual for integrity's sake...and it might even be a little easier since the camera will keep its focus when I try to see what it looks like, rather than refocusing over and over again.
But, so help me, this is making me cringe.