Yesterday a national women’s magazine sent a team of three to get my photo for its April issue. They’re doing a story on moms who make money flogging crap arbitraging rare treasures on eBay. My story of buying this for $4 and flipping it for $2200 had captured the editor’s imagination, and I was one of three women selected for the article.
Having worked on the production side of many a publicity and advertising shoot over the years, it was quite novel to be the model for once. I know there are certain things photographers get sick of hearing, so I didn’t say them, even though I thought them. “Make me look younger!” “Make me look thinner!” ”Hide the wattle!” “Minimize the teacher flab!” (the shirt HAD to have short sleeves).
It was fun to have someone else do my hair and makeup right in my own home.
It was entertaining to swap stories with the photographer and his assistant and the sweet makeup artist, Lauren. It was humorous when Ian came in while my hair was in rollers and foundation was being dabbed on my nose to say “Mom, I need a ride.”
But while I may have felt like Meryl Streep for a couple of hours, smiling and posing cooperatively, the illusion vanished when everybody left and I finally got to look in the mirror. I had big hair, and not in a good way. In a even-my-bangs-are-curled, I’m an-extra-in-Norma-Rae, OMG-I-look-like-Tammy-Faye kind of way. The photographer said “This magazine wants all the women in it to look as if they’re going out to the rodeo.” I should have taken that as a warning. That and the fact that nobody gave me a mirror before the camera started clicking.
This was not a photo shoot for Vogue or Redbook, clearly, but rather a grocery store periodical. I’m not supposed to say more until April when it comes out. Maybe I’m clinging to straws here, but when Hugh came home, he said “Hi Mom, your hair looks nice!”
