When the Butcher takes my picture:
When a professional photographer does it:
It was a bit like having my senior picture taken, but more anxiety producing, because I’ve been feeling so “German Grandpa” lately. But it turns out that the friend of the Butcher’s really is a professional photographer and her pictures of me–every single one I saw on the camera–looked so good. I can live with looking like that, anyway. She said I should see finals today or tomorrow.
The thing she did a really good job of was setting me at ease. And she worked quickly, which was also nice. I had to wear make-up, like some kind of person who wears make-up, which was weird and, more disturbingly, even though I washed my face before I brushed my teeth, I still found lipstick on my toothbrush this morning. I was all “Oh, gross, something red is growing on the handle of my too… Oh, that’s lipstick.” That’s a whole peril of girldom I have somehow missed out on up until now.
But she made me feel like my hair was so pretty (again, not something I’m really used to) and she kept holding it and moving it and so I wore it down to work today and one of the women who works down the hall was all “Wow, you look really good with your hair down.”
So, apparently, I have just been failing to seduce my way into everyone’s beds because I braid my hair to keep it out of the way! Who knew?
Anyway, I’ll share when I get something to share.
I wrote this thing about Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. The more I type that, the more I wonder if they have some macro out there that would just type that stupid name out for me every time I needed it.