Wannabe!

I am not a professional photographer. I pretend I am, but I most certainly am not. For my birthday once, I asked my dad and stepmom for a fancy camera and I got a Canon Rebel. I went all out with that camera and bought me a fancy camera bag just like the pros use. I got a longer lens that made me seem like I knew what I was doing when I went through the motions of switching the lens. I bought tinted lenses and black and white film and a cleaning cloth and... well, you get the idea. Then I proceeded to prance about the national parks in DC snapping shots of monuments and flowers and acting like I was there for a reason, as if I was a photographer for the Washington Post paper.

Now that film is on it's last legs and digital is sweeping the nation, my poor Canon just sits in a corner, weeping. My latest camera is a simple little digital one-trick pony kind of camera and here I am, pretending to be a professional photographer, again. The azaleas are blooming and I want to take our newly traditional picture of the girls in front of the lovely flowers.

I am not a professional photographer, as you can see. This is one of many I took of Oldest and look at that expression! She's actually shaking her head at my feeble attempts at being a professional photog (look- I'm even using slang talk!).

Here, Youngest can't even manage a smile for me. She just sits there looking at me disdainfully, hoping that I'll just throw in the towel and give it up.

Middle here, is such a poser. She do every unnatural pose in the book except for the one I want her to do-- sit up, look at me, smile. Her version is to sit with her back as straight as a rod, head up in the clouds and a toothy, cheesy grin.

Look! Youngest can't even look at me! I've shamed her and she can't bear to look at her poor mother sitting on the damp ground, crying for her to look at me and smile. Middle even closed her eyes, preferring to daydream she is on a tropical island, surrounded with dolls from the toy store, dancing with Woody, her main squeeze from Toy Story (move over Bo Peep! There's a new girl in town!). Even Oldest is patiently waiting for me to call it quits, refusing to open her mouth and show her teeth, for fear one of those pesky gnats swarming us will fly into her mouth. I already had a mouthful of gnats when I was making goofy faces trying to get my girls to laugh and smile and look oh so pretty for the camera.

I'm not a professional photographer. Professional photographers don't yell at their subjects and spit out gnats that fly into their mouths. They coo sweetly at the subjects and charge an extra sitting fee instead!