Until our California trip, we had zero pictures of all four of us. Not a single solitary one. Margot was born three months ago and we hadn’t even gotten a blurry, red-eyed snapshot of the whole family. In this day of DSLRs and camera phones and Instagram and all, that’s just sad.
It’s understandable, though, when you consider two things: a) I am usually the one taking pictures and it’s hard to work yourself into a shot without either holding the camera at arm’s length (not my fave) or using the timer, and b) I am tremendously awkward in front of a camera.
It’s like the camera goes up and I suddenly have no idea what to do with myself. I start fidgeting and making weird faces and it’s not pretty.
David, I’d like to point out (Am I actually pointing in this shot? Maybe? It’s like my hand has a mind of its own.), looks exactly the same in every shot.
It’s not a genuine smile, but at least the man is consistent. I, on the other hand, look like I just sneezed.
Will someone please teach me to be photogenic?
Whatever. Good enough.