Today the Milwaukee Journal is coming out to my house to photograph my garden for a piece in the Sunday paper. In specific, they are aiming for my sunflowers. In early spring, a freelance writer contacted me about an article. Since I was writing a new series about beekeeping, I mentioned my participation in The Great Sunflower Project, which involves growing lemon queen sunflowers and monitoring bee activity. She loved the idea, pitched it to the paper, and so here I am, all ready. The sunflowers are towering, the bees are buzzing, and I'm really nervous.
Because I hate having my picture taken.
"Am I supposed to be in the photographs," I said to the writer yesterday. A stupid question, but I was hopeful.
"Absolutely," she said. "In every one of them."
When did I stop enjoying being in pictures? I used to like them. Everybody else seems to. My daughter has some kind of camera radar and is in every single picture taken within two miles of her. (an exaggeration, but you get the point).
Maybe it's because I'm not very photogenic. At least one eye is always closed, usually both.
The above professional photo was taken by my husband, who is a semi-pro. However, his work when it involves me, sucks. Every pore and flaw shows, and I accuse him of doing it on purpose. He must have taken two hundred pictures before I finally approved this one. A patient man, my husband.
The Journal photographers won't give me the same latitude.
So are there any other photophobs out there?