Still Monday morning, still writing--but a new topic here-my photos of the last 15, 10, 5 years, such as the one I've posted on this blog. When I went in to give up my Utah driver's license for a Colorado one, I of course had my pictue taken. I had taken in my passport as another means of ID to get me license, so the clerks who took the picture, having the three photos before them, laughed that they all looked the same--my looks have not changed, and, according to the pix, I have not aaged in all these years. I myself would be incredulous to be told that the woman in the picture on this blog was celebrating her 70th birthday. In fact, I would be downright green with envy. What is her secret?
Well, I'll tell you. We love stories about people who have sold their soul to the devil in exchange for immortality, Dr. Faustus, for example. I have not sold my soul to the devil, but I seem to have made some bargain with the camera. Yes, the camera has decided that when I stand in front of it (or sit) that it will render much the same picture that it has over the past 15 years. It was a secret pact, evidently,, and I don't know what being is in charge of what the camera sees, but there it is--
There it is--a reverse Dorian Grey--the physical self has aged considerably over the years--the photos don't age. What is going to happen when the two collide? I shudder to think. The wrinkles on my face are deep and my sagging neck has the texture that my mother's did when Rick told her, "Your neck looks just like your dress, A-my." She was wearing crepe. My hands have all those brown spots on them that signify undignified aging, the flesh on my arms--when I do the downward dog, all moves forward and down, forming crevasses--waves of human flesh folding over into itself. I'm horrified and pretend I'm not.
Maybe that's what the camera knows-she wouldn't be able to take it--go easy on her--rough life and all. Give her something to smile about.
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