I have a paralyzing fear of the camera.
Actually, no. It’s not paralyzing. It is whatever the exact opposite of paralyzing is. When a camera is pointed in my direction I find it suddenly impossible to just. sit. still.
The idea of you being able to just look at me, without the buffer of my personality and humor, makes me extremely uncomfortable. I’m much more at ease with my inner beauty in motion than an outer skin that can be studied and dissected inch by inch.
Which of course means that I am the perfect person to be in a photo calendar.
To say I was nervous about the photo shoot for the Hot Blogger Calendar would be like saying sometimes I can be a little emotional. I had been able to suppress most of my anxiety only by reminding myself that this was about Hot Bloggers – and everyone knows that Bloggers are Those People Who Sit On The Internet All Day.
Even the hottest of the hot are likely to have albino tendencies and at least one freakishly disproportionate facial feature.
And then I met some people who claim to be bloggers but who are quite obviously liars and must have some geeky writer type holed up in their basement writing their blogs for them in exchange for a promise to Be Your Best Friend.
Those were the types of bloggers they were putting in this calendar.
Actual. Hot. Bloggers.
I have no clue where the hell they found these people, but it’s fair to say that I freaked the fuck out. I could not for the life of me fathom how I was going to pull off a photography session that was supposed to be about actual Hotness. As in that sexy kind of hotness. As in some of these girls wore miniskirts and heels for their pictures because they actually had the legs to pull that shit off.
Of course, by the time I realized the severity of the Hot Situation, it was far too late for me to cop out and mail in a picture of My Photoshopped Head on Anyone Else’s Body. I was already in New York City and the professionals were waiting for me.
Thank God that included a makeup artist.
Although I showed up to the shoot with a full face of makeup, Jillian The Magician Villafane managed to spend a good 30-45 minutes on my face.
And that didn’t include the airbrushing.
Oh yes, airbrushing.
I have decided that in my next life I’m going to come back as someone who can afford to keep a personal airbrusher in her powder room. I’m also going to come back as someone who lives in a house with a powder room.
ANYway – they brushed me and dabbed me and threw me in front of a metal wall, a very bright light and what appeared to me to be some very expensive camera equipment.
And no one said a word.
“So… what should I….” I looked around for the person who was going to be responsible for telling me to put my chin down and point my knees that way.
Pashew. Pashew. Pashew.
The very expensive camera equipment was loud and fast and very obviously taking pictures already.
“Wait! What are you doing? Did we start? Did someone say start?”
Pashew. Pashew. Pashew.
“What the hell am I supposed to be doing!?!” a studio full of people stared back at me and I realized I was supposed to be directing myself.
“Where do I put my hands? I DON’T KNOW WHAT TO DO WITH MY HANDS!” Laughter erupted from the couch – the sound of Jared recognizing a Talladega Nights quote.
“It’s not funny! I don’t know what to do!”
I tried to disguise my awkwardness with awkward giggles and jerky movements that surely frustrated the photographer. I remember hearing something about “natural” and “fine” and “whatever you feel best blah blah blah” I tried desperately to pretend the camera wasn’t there and engage in conversation with the onlookers, forcing Bill and Meg to request “can you look over here? Can you look at me for a second?” repeatedly.
It was painful. Everyone was wonderfully professional and soothing and reassuring – especially Sharon of Mom Generations, one of the project sponsors – but I couldn’t quite shake the feeling that I was a big fat fraud in a room full of seasoned pros. Seasoned pros who were comfortable in their beautifully glowing, still tight with proper elasticity skin.
I don’t know if I’ve ever felt more out of my league in my entire life.
Which is to say, don’t you want to run right out and buy a calendar now? Have you not always dreamed of hanging Miss Painfully Awkward on the wall above your cubicle? Are you not practically salivating at the idea of gazing upon the airbrushed profile of THE HOTTEST BLOGGER TO NEVER LOOK AT THE GOD DAMN CAMERA!?
I know, I know. You’re barely holding yourself back.
Which is why you will be pleased to know that you can now order The 2009 Hot Blogger Calendar for $12. You will also be pleased to know that 11 other chics showed up who apparently got the memo about the bloggers being hot.
And you can tell all your buddies “I know that girl! No, no. Not that goofy one with the weird hand pose. Uh… the other one.”