Candid Ham-era

I know how to take a good photograph when necessary. I know the proper angles that are most flattering. I know how to look taller, thinner, more angular (like there are actual bones in my face) and better-rested. I haven't yet mastered the art of "younger," but give me time.

I'm an okay looking gal. Some might even go so far as to say "above average for lower-class Middle America." Homeless men and recently released inmates have gone so far as to describe me as "cute enough." But here's the thing: in a candid photo—as in a photo where I am not posing... a photo that is taken without my knowledge...

I am a mutant. 

Ok try and tell me this doesn't look like me or at least a close relative.

I don't have any good examples because I ensure that these photos are immediately destroyed. In these images, I weigh 300 pounds and have five chins. I am also usually chewing something and/or cross-eyed. And don't think that it hasn't occurred to me that this is probably actually how I look all the time and that I am just really successful at accidentally mirror-posing.

But I had an epiphany the other day after seeing a back-to-back version of a scene: one photo taken candidly and the other re-staged. In the posed version, I was 185 pounds lighter and fifteen years younger (the candid version was a 55-year-old).

I have come to a conclusion on the matter: the problem isn't that I take bad candid photos. The real problem is that I'm not posing 100 percent of the time in real life. And why shouldn't I be? Why shouldn't I live every moment of my life like I am being photographed?

Give me one good reason.

Go.