Now as a photographer I can tell you, if I had a dollar for every time I heard, “I hate having my picture taken,” well, I’d be writing this blog from my chaise lounge at my beach house in Malibu. My favorite is “It’s worse than going to the dentist," which makes me want to start a support group for dentists. So what you are saying is, me pointing a camera at you is worse than someone drilling into your tiny mouth bones? Sad. But I GET IT!

Recently, at a convention, I took the opportunity to have a headshot done by members of Peter Hurley’s Headshot Crew. As I waited in line, I noticed the closer I got to “my turn” the more my heart began to pound as little beads of sweat started to form at my hairline. My thoughts raced - my hair, my make-up, my age, my hair, my clothes, my weight, my wrinkles my hair…my glasses fogged up – should I wear my glasses? As I stepped in front of the camera I was all questions – where do I look, wait is that my best side…what’s my hair doing? Despite the photographer’s clear and calm directions, I was a befuddled mess of a model. Turn, look, stretch, lean, mouth closed, smile, look here, taller, eyes here, smile, smize (hu?), squinch (wha?). He was doing a great job, but he might as well have been speaking “cat” because I was barely able to follow any of his instructions.