In an unprecedented display of vanity, I have spent the last 24 hours taking pictures of myself. After reviewing the pictures, I am starting to think that perhaps I am not as good looking as I had previously thought. Now I know why people stare at me in public, they are blinded by the glare coming from my forehead. Maybe they think that I am an angel and it is my halo. That makes me feel a little better. I also feel relieved at the discovery that my eyes are crossed. It explains why I am such a bad driver.
I have been asked to write a bio and submit a head shot for a publication. Writing the bio has proven to be too difficult. I am not good at writing about myself in third person. So far, I have:
Mist 1 was raised by wolves and now resides in the Dirty South with her cat and guinea pig. She enjoys flossing her teeth and has one of the largest shoe collections of the Southeast. Despite her many latent talents, she has not yet acquired a hobby. Mist prefers drinking red wine to water, but will also drink rubbing alcohol if the weather is too cold for her to leave her charming, yet messy town home.
No matter what I write, it sounds like I'm placing a personal ad. I have decided to set this aside for a bit thinking that I should focus my energy on the photo. I have taken photos with my hair down, pinned up, and worst yet, twisted up with a few curls left casually framing my face.
Because I don't know how to use the timer on my camera, I have to hold the camera very close to my face to avoid the MySpace-like picture of my outstretched arm.
Yesterday, I finished my bio and checked it for misspellings. Satisfied, I sent it off with a photo. I should have checked the photo before sending it. To my horror, I later realized that there was a lovely booger in my nose.
I hope they Photoshop me like a celebrity.