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My new mustache disrupted my hurried breath. I accidentally inhaled the tiny black fibers that were shedding on my lips, uncomfortably mixing with my nervous sweat. I slipped on my lime-green glasses right before sitting on the stool to take my student Identification Card picture.
I had been looking forward to this moment for years, a school photo that wouldn’t go in the yearbook, a chance to finally express myself, and my heart pounded. The photographer took one look at me and shook her head, “You have to take that off,” she said. Moment destroyed. All right, I can't honestly say that I thought I’d get away with wearing a ridiculous ‘stache as a disguise for my picture, but a common accessory like glasses? I know students who actually have to wear spectacles more ridiculous than the ones I had on. I came back about an hour later sporting a new, more normal-looking pair. Still a no-go. Couldn’t I get a break? After ten minutes of tough negotiating with the photographers, we finally came to a bargain. I took a very intentionally ugly picture with my glasses and a very normal picture with no extra props.
With the sight of my new and ugly ID card, however, my eyes burned with actual tears … of relief. Though at first I could not identify the reason for such an odd reaction, after a few moments I knew exactly where the relief came from. First off, I never thought I’d see myself so strange-looking on an official document like this. Secondly, I was ecstatic to see an expression on my face that wasn’t in any way forced, one that had been caught in a natural, albeit unattractive, shot. I’ve realized that the convention of taking a good yearbook photo is bunk. A yearbook photo should really reflect one’s quirk or catch a moment of authenticity, not be a perfect picture picked out of the twenty taken, like my senior portraits.
People should feel pride when they take an imperfect picture. I’m not just saying this because my “quirky” photo isn’t the one people will be remembering me by when they look back in the ‘09-‘10 yearbook, but because the act of looking stupid in a picture is truly invigorating. The pressure of looking attractive in every picture has tired me since Facebook was invented and. Embarrassed about being embarrassed, with each upload I found myself untagging those unflattering photos from the night before if I spotted a double chin. Sitting on the stool in the fall, I had a chance to take a picture (almost) without any restrictions.
So here is my new proposition, have no more shame in your “unique” pictures, ditch your usual forced smile, the one that makes your eyes squint or disappear altogether and stand up for your right to express yourself on the memory pages. One small struggle for a lifetime of happiness. I recommend wearing your old retainer, or if you’re feeling gutsy, maybe headgear. The sight of a picture like that is guaranteed to bring you a real 100-watt smile.
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