Wednesday, October 22, 2014

No photos, please

Mr A recently had to renew his passport. It arrived just in the nick of time before he took off on a work trip. (Nothing like anxiously awaiting a passport's delivery just prior to leaving the country to get the old adrenaline going, eh?)

Anyhoo ... it prompted me to check if the boys and I are due for new passports any time soon. Good thing I did: turns out that all three boys require new ones. Promising myself I'd get on to that quick smart (that was about a month ago and I've still yet to look in to that. Typical) I looked hopefully at my own only to find, unfortunately, that I have another six years to go.

I say I looked 'hopefully’ and ‘unfortunately’ I didn’t need a new one because at the moment I believe I possess the worst passport photo EVER. No, really. I do.

I am so not photogenic. Especially when it comes to official documentation like a passport and/or driver's license. And from memory, my recent passport shot was done on the fly, hence I have three-day hair (as in, it was the third day since I'd washed it, and I was in desperate need of a good shampoo) and I’m wearing some horribly boring, beige kind of top that makes me look even more blah than what I would normally in a photo. (Add to that I'm not allowed to smile... ugh.) The next six years just can’t go quickly enough.

This is not the first time that I’ve been stuck with a really bad photo. In fact, there was one driver's license that – if it’s humanly possible – had an even worse photo than my current passport does.

In the early 90s – back when I still looked young enough to be asked to produce ID when entering an establishment for over 18s (because I was actually young back then!) I had the world’s worst driver’s license photo. Although I can’t produce the actual ID to prove it to you (thank, gawd) I can prove it with further evidence based on a real event ...

One night, I ventured off to one of my fave nightclubs in Perth at the time: The Hippodrome. As I arrived at the door, one of the two bouncers on duty asked me for ID. (I was probably annoyed at the time that I was all of twenty and still being asked for ID. Sheesh. I so didn't appreciate back then how great it was to be considered young!) Knowing how my shiny, new driver's license looked, I hesitantly handed it over.

Bouncer 1 glanced at it then promptly burst in to laughter. He looked up at me, still laughing, and said, ‘That’s gotta be the worst photo I’ve ever seen!’ I rolled my eyes and said, ‘Yeah, yeah - hand it over.’ But nooooo, he wasn’t finished with my ID yet. Instead, he passed it on to Bouncer 2, saying, ‘Mate, get a look at this. Is that the WORST ID photo you’ve ever seen?!’ Bouncer 2 took the ID and also promptly burst in to laughter.

Once I managed to wrestle my ID back, I muttered, 'Glad I was able to amuse you,’ then quickly pushed myself past Dumb and Dumber and entered the club, hastily shoving my ID in to the depths of my purse. 

A couple of hours later, exhausted from hitting the dance floor (where I always spent most of my time in nightclubs, because I really loved to dance - unless, of course, a member of the opposite sex was able to, say, distract me at the bar … * winks *), I stumbled out of the nightclub, ready to go home, lie down and rest my weary body after all my Vogue moves (or something similar). As I exited, I heard a laugh and, ‘Hey, there goes the girl with the funny ID!’ Bouncer 1 and Bouncer 2 were enjoying their second round of amusement at my expense.

Thankfully, that particular license was a twelve month one only. I couldn’t wait to cut it up when I got my new one.

Of course, even though I can’t wait to try again with a new passport photo, the downside is that by the time 2020 rolls around, I’ll be pushing fifty, with no doubt even more wrinkles to show.

Think I’d better hit the hair salon and the makeup counter at the local shops that day. *sigh*


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Thanks for stopping by and for sharing your thoughts. J xox