Photo shoots are generally reserved for those who model, act or willingly take off their clothes for poses most people would only strike at yoga class.
That’s why it’s surprising that I was the subject of a shoot in my very own home (without an armed burglar commanding, “Give me all your cash!”)
The reason? A local magazine wanted to publish my essay, “With friends like this, who needs family?” which believe it or not isn’t about the bond between Angelina Jolie and Jennifer Aniston. It’s about the challenges of living far away from family.
In my essay I reflect back on how when I was sick my mom would soothingly rub my feet, hum a comforting tune, and spoon-feed me homemade chicken noodle soup. It’s about how at 45 years old, I still want mommy.
But instead, living 3000 miles from my parents with a family of my own, my life revolves around my kids. The only time I get noticed is when we run out of Fruit Loops.
So when the magazine editor asked if I would pose for a photo in my home to run with the article I readily agreed. It would be fun for a change to be the subject, and not the photographer urging my kids to pretend to look happy. And it would give me a reason to wear something besides sweatpants and a ponytail.
I didn’t expect that something, however, to be my bathrobe . . .
The editor explained that she wanted the photo to complement my essay. In other words, she wanted me to look “sick.” Now, as a mom of teens I know that “sick” is slang for crazy, cool and insane. But when the editor asked if I had cold medicine, a thermometer and an ice pack at home it stood to reason that she wanted me to look the other kind of sick, as in, not well, ill, gross and disgusting.
A week later, photographer Andy arrived at my doorstep. I greeted him and looked behind him for the crew that wasn’t there.
As he shook my hand, his eyes lit up. “You are so adorable!” he said, looking past me to my dog, Shadow. He reached out to pet her. “This is the cutest dog ever!”
From that moment on, the only time he uttered a phrase that didn’t include the word “Shadow” was when he asked to use the bathroom.
While Andy gushed over my dog, I plunked myself down on the couch and arranged the props: an icepack for my head, a thermometer in my mouth, and a bevy of cold medicine by my side.
With each click of the camera I gained confidence and struck more daring poses—thermometer to the left side, thermometer to the right . . .
Andy frowned and set the camera down. “Ummm . . .is the dog allowed on the couch?” he asked.
“Mmhumm” I nodded.
“I’d like her to sit with you—if that’s okay . . .”
“Hmm?” I raised an eyebrow. Certainly he didn’t intend to photograph my dog. This was MY photo shoot.
“Shadow. I’d like her in the photo with you,” he explained.
My thermometer snapped in two.
He patted the couch next to me. Shadow jumped up and sidled next to me.
“Let’s just angle Shadow’s head a little more towards the camera, shall we?” he, said, and picked up the camera with new enthusiasm. “Perfect!” (Click) He looked into the camera. “I got it!”
“Can I see?” I peeked at the camera. Shadow looked beyond adorable—big puppy dog eyes, head cocked to the side.
I, on the other hand, looked like a rat pulled from a sewer hole.
This photo will get noticed!” Andy exclaimed.
It’ll get noticed all right, I thought, letting out a short moan.
I suddenly wanted my mommy more than ever.
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This was really funny Lisa. 🙂
Thanks Wendy, much appreciated!
Scuse me, could you move over just a little more to the left? The light hits shadow perfect. Thanks, you’re a dear. Wow, hope you feel better.
Shadow is very photogenic. 🙂
Congrats on the essay being published! I guess the lesson to be learned here is that next time you should get an uglier dog. Shadow’s adorable!
Thanks Paprika! And yes, I should get an uglier dog, and a more attractive bathrobe.
You would probably be this funny even if you WERE really sick. But don’t try it just to test my theory.
You’re too kind, Ronnie. And no, I won’t try it. That wouldn’t be a “sick” idea, as in the crazy kind of sick! 🙂
This is hilarious! Thanks for a good laugh today.
The pleasure is mine, Cindy!
OMG you crack me up! This is TOO cute…. cant wait to see pics Lis!
Thanks, Lisa. Pics coming in May! (Get your barf bag ready).
This was adorable :o) The surprise photo link made me laugh..
Thanks–your drawings are always so amusing, glad I can reciprocate!
<— they say thank you!
Oh, so funny post. And congrats on getting the essay pubished!
Much appreciated!
Upstaged by a dog. Pitiful. At least you don’t have to be a ghost writer to your dog’s name! Big bow-WOW on the published article! 🙂
Right? I REFUSE to take her to Erma Bombeck 2012!
Wow! I think you should allow Shadow get famous, and then ride his coattails all the way to the bank.
Interesting idea. I’d write a book about Shadow, but there are so many dog books already flooding the market. Maybe I should buy a pet pig . . .
With four of ’em running around here, I know exactly what you’re saying! I look forward to my yearly Pap smear ’cause some part of me gets a little spotlight! Very funny, and congrats on publication!
True, there is that spotlight. But thanks for not sharing THAT photo! 😉
HA! I’ll keep THAT one to myself:)
The pictures resulting from this shoot are eagerly anticipated. It was very big of you to share the camera with Shadow. Congrats on the essay publication…and also on your resulting future serving solely as your dog’s agent.
Yup, I should probably let Shadow write this blog from now on . . .
Doggone it. Upstaged by your dog, Shadow. Although he really is cute. Good one, Lisa.
The story of my life . . .
lol! Well in all fairness the dog does look pretty cute in the picture…
And with our curly hair there’s a striking resemblance! 😉
Haha amusing story Lisa! And such a cool name for a cool puppy.
In fact, I like it so much, that if I ever get a dog, there is about 90 % chance that I will name it Shadow. hihih…
Thanks, Vladimir. Too cool!