Sunday, June 14, 2009
If You Love Me...
What does it mean when you realize your friends are photoshopping pictures of you? I'll admit, I was aghast with horror the first moment I realized it. But now, I'm downright grateful. Seriously, never been more appreciative -- except for maybe the anesthesiologists that I met on Dec 9, 2004, and Sept. 27, 2006. In short, if you love me, photoshop me. Give me some digital botox. Blur the wrinkles on my neck, because who doesn't feel bad about their neck? Creatively crop the back of my arm out of the shot, or my thighs... yes, definitely the thighs. Soften the dark under my eyes. While you're at it, just take off a few freckles here and there. I'll love you for it.
As long as we're on the topic. Try not to capture my attitude or "natural look" before 9 a.m. (or after 9 p.m.). Don't shoot me at any angle below my face. Absolutely no one is interested in how many chins are under there. And if you could avoid profile shots of my chest -- or lack thereof -- that would be spectacular. If it's not too much trouble, forget about taking pictures of my butt. Or close ups. Forget about extreme close ups. (Who's idea was that anyway?) And last but certainly not least, if you see me in a swim suit, for God's sake do not look for your camera.
I promise to do the same.
For a true, unblemished, unphotoshopped babe, check out this link from last year.
PHOTO NOTE: An awesomely unflattering photo snapped by none other than my husband.