There is nothing, I tell you, nothing, that will humble you more quickly than having a photo made of yourself that's supposed to look good enough to go on the back of a book.
Lord have mercy.
Husband took about elevendy billion shots, and the more he took, the grumpier I got.
I'm old, okay? I don't like this. Plus it makes me hurt worse.
Husband kept saying, "Your face is showing your pain. You are going to have to be an actress and pretend everything is great."
I won't repeat what I said.
Anyway, out of all those photos, we narrowed it down to 3. And the three got narrowed down to one.
But my hair looks almost orange because we had to darken the photo because I'm the whitest white that ever whited.
But my publisher, Mr. Magic, fixed that.
So it's as good as it gets, folks.
And that ain't so good.
No comments :
Post a Comment