Ever had a photo shoot done? What’s the big deal? You sit down in front of a camera while a photographer or his assistant scurry around making sure the lighting around you is perfect, fluffing about, snapping photos when the time is right. You, as the subject, only have to sit there and smile pretty for the camera. Easy enough, right?

But then it becomes your turn under the lights. Suddenly this photographer who seemed harmless enough a couple of hours ago is scrutinizing you for optimum photo excellence—because to him or her, it’s not just about satisfying you, the client, but it’s about their work. They know these photos will be used, and if they turn out disastrous due to your little facial quirks or misguided attempts at “sass” they don’t want their name anywhere near them.

You realize this only by reading the look of horror on the photographer’s face. Change of plans. You decide on a new approach. You think to yourself, I want to look cute and mischievous in my photo, so you tilt your head slightly down, raise an eyebrow and lift your lips into a naughty little grin. But as you notice the photographer trying to keep the smile from brimming across his lips you realize that it’s possible you may not be achieving the desired effect.

You ask nicely, “May I see the photos so far?”

The photographer, steps back and presents the camera to you, keeping hold of the advance forward button, as he doesn’t want your goofy ass touching his expensive equipment. You scooch by with a smile to see your beautiful, professional photos, only to discover that the special lighting and the clearer-than-the-naked-eye resolution of his umpteen thousand dollar camera is revealing not only every single wrinkle, frown & laugh line, jiggly skin (come on, you know what I’m talking about), clogged pore, pimple, age spot and flyaway hair that you had no idea even existed. 

And that cute and quirky, mischievous pose? Unless you’re under the age of six, let’s get real.

Thank God my nightmare is over, and the shoot produced one lone picture out of about a hundred that has been deemed “acceptable.” (I use this term extremely loosely.) And that final polished, retouched photo will not resemble anything close to the mess presented to me on the index screens, as my photographer is also my friend, and he knows that I know where he lives. 

My advice—keep snapping away with your smart phones. This high quality nonsense is for the birds.

Stay tuned…