Of Passport Size Photos..and Me!

I would wear the nicest of clothes. And make my face up in a pretty presentable way. I will do my hair in a nice way too. And then i will sit in front of the camera. The nice photographer will tell me to smile. I will. I must. I am given no other choice. A flash of light, blinding light if i may, and another. The nice photographer will then tell me that it is done.

Then finally the photograph will come out.

And then…and then.

A horror story will begin. No matter how hard i try…and how many times i do so. such photographs in which i am supposed to look presentable and well..’official’ i always end up looking like a dud. A horror story. A freak and messed up!

And not that i have any problem with that…but c’mon i am a nice person who should have nice looking photos. I have every right to look presentable.

The blue background is not a problem at all. But the face in front of it is not up to what i had in mind. Every time i sit on the bench and the light flashes…a very pleasant image comes to my mind.

I always think that it will be of a person with nice hair and a pretty smile…a face which makes a wild heart race….or a steady heart beat with affection. Which makes people go wild in the knees if not that. And if not even that then at least it should be pleasant enough that people can flirt away with you.

And what comes out..is a picture of a savage looking person. The eye bags clearly showing…more like a ruffian. Lips twisted into a heinous smile. Eyes ..drunk. Nose..never mind.

The nice man who edits the picture asks me if it is okay…and i sadly nod. Too overcome by an unknown emotion. And slowly i walk away.

 

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