This story says something about me in that way famously retold childhood stories do: you know it means something, but you don’t know what that something is.
When I was 3 or 4 my mom had to get a photo taken for a story. I think it was about a new diet center where everyone, my mother included, lost a lot of weight. She took me along to the studio and the entire time I begged and begged the photographer to take my picture. Finally she asked him if he wouldn’t mind taking my picture, even if he didn’t use “real film”, and of course he said he’d be happy to.
I stood in front of the camera but refused to smile. I have no memory of this. Who knows why I refused? I would not smile. This is the picture he took. In the end he won some sort of contest with this photo.*
Easy psychoanalysis: As soon as I get what I want I am unhappy.
Potentially obvious explanation: Pretend film? What’s the point? I’m FOUR, not stupid.
Alternative psychoanalysis: I’m a BAMF and I do what it takes to bring home the gold.
*In North Carolina. In the 80’s.
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