Wednesday, May 6, 2009
Okay, So I'm Camera Shy
I’ve always hated having my picture taken. My husband tends to get upset with me over my lack of enthusiasm about being photographed. It’s odd that I’m married to a multi-media professional and not anxious to participate in his zest for capturing the moment. I don’t understand why I should have to be subjected to something that disturbs me so much. When I was young and cute I still vehemently resisted being photographed. Now that I’m older—it’s even worse. I’ve been known to run from a camera. I’ve been known to hide behind whatever shield is at hand upon realizing that someone's about to shoot me. Click Click feels like Bang Bang. Consequently, and to my dear husband’s chagrin, we have way too many shots of me hiding behind newspapers and whatever else might be handy at the time.
You may think that I’m full of self-loathing. I am not. (I won’t go into my theory about just why I’m so damn camera shy, but it has to do with my mother, and I don’t believe this blogspot is the proper place to engage in self-therapy, so I’ll spare you readers by not going there.)
Imagine my resistance to attaching my image to my up-coming book, Boomer Tales, Please Stand By. "Why do I have to?" I asked, sounding like a whining fool. "Who gives a crap what I look like?" I said. I was forced to give in though. Seems people do care, or so I am told.
My daughter snapped this shot of me not long ago. Waiting for her in her car, I opened the door for a little air, leaned back, closed my eyes, and dozed off. I don’t know what possessed her to take my picture upon returning, but I heard the car door open, and then her voice calling, “Cheese.” So, as you can see, I sent her an air kiss.
I don’t hate this picture all that much. It wouldn’t suck if this were the only shot my daughter had to remember me by. At least there’s no newspaper between us.
All Rights Reserved. © 2009 by Elizabeth Bradley.