Being Honest

The other day I spent far too much time combing through photos of myself. I was looking through these photos to please my mother, to give her one of these photos so she could pass it on to the boy she wants me to meet and fall for. I had to look at all the pictures with a critical eye, an eye that asked Does that smile make me look fun or schizophrenic? and Does my face look even more horse-faced than usual?

After going through each of my albums and discarding possible photo choices for bad hair days, way-too-toothy smiles, and bad angles, I finally realized what a joke it all was. One photo to sum me up? One photo to convince a guy that I am fun and not completely unfortunate looking? It's too much pressure. Too much. And if I was really being honest, I would send a picture that had much less perfection in it, a picture that showed my true colors. Possibly a picture like this:



That's a picture that says a lot. It says, for instance, Dear Boys, this is what you would have to put up with if you dated me. As is evident in this photo, I like the following things: good earrings and silicone pot holders shaped like pigs. Love, Jess.

It's quite a bit more honest than some of the other pictures I chose. Quite, quite a bit.