Perfect Pose

Photo: Alexandre Croussette/Unsplash

The following post is from my friend Vikki Wooley from Atlanta, Ga. She writes:

What is it about driver’s license photos? For months I’m planning my “look” for my DMV glamour shot because you only get one chance to get that perfect image for eight long years. You try hard to look fabulous because, let’s face it, every time you open your wallet, “that face” will be staring up at you, and it may be the only photo the public ever sees of you if you are missing or need to be identified. You need to look every ounce of those 20 pounds less that your driver’s license says you weigh. You know, big hair, on point make-up, practiced smile, the perfect outfit (for the one inch of collar that actually shows in the photo).

Last Friday. The day of my perfect photo shoot. I ran late, so dry shampoo was the answer. I look in the 3” visor mirror in my car on the way to the DMV and try to convince myself, “it added body and volume, makes my hair look ‘poofy.’” Ladies, don’t let 3” fool you.

Surprisingly, I didn’t have to wait long. Once the paperwork was processed, I turned with my back to the blank wall as instructed, but I didn’t stand still. When the camera started clicking, I started my practiced poses thinking, “Wow! They’re taking at least three photos here, so there’s going to be a good one to select.”

Then, out of nowhere, I’m blinded by the flash. You know like when the person with the high beams crests the hill, and you are blinded by the lights. That flash. There was only one. My first clue should have been the DMV clerk shaking her head. I asked, “Do I look angry?” because in my last 8-year photo I looked angry. She said, “No.”

“Is it okay?” I asked, thinking a lady friend would be so kind as to say, “Let’s do another one,” if it were completely hideous. She said, “Yes, it’s fine.” So...I wait patiently for my new driver’s license to print. The clerk hands me my new license, and I look hopefully at the photo. Oh no.

My husband, God love him, said the kindest thing he could think of upon seeing my new eight-year license, “You look like you’re trying to get away with something.” At least I don’t look angry, but that double chin...eight loooooong years.