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I have, this afternoon, partaken in that ritual that comes around every ten years and, in it’s own unique way, measures the passing of time quite like no other. It’s the one you never really want other people to see but know you are going to have to show to someone at some point soon. It’s the one that you always get four of but only need two of and the remaining two get stuffed in a box in a drawer with a label stuck to it that says ‘do not open until after I’m dead’.
Ten years ago, when my last passport photograph was taken, I just looked old, grey and grumpy. The passport office tell you that if you are still recognisable ten years on there is no need to provide a countersignature verifying your identity. I really thought I would be OK until this afternoon. Now I just look older, greyer and grumpier and no – I don’t think I look remotely the same. I just look worse.
As someone who laughs readily and a lot, who is basically happy and contented and, I like to think, good natured, why the hell do I look so miserable and grumpy in a passport photograph? But, as my wife reminded me, it doesn’t matter. Because as she pointed out, I am quite possibly at my peak of grumpiness when I am in that immigration queue from hell having just endured several hours of cramped tedium and desperately wanting a shower and a cigarette to restore my equilibrium. And that, of course, is the very time I need to look like my passport picture.
heehee! She’s right you know… that IS probably your grumpiest!
Oh yes. Well that and call-centres anyway
Eccchhhh. We have to re-up ours too. I HATE photos for this sort of thing….. okay, I HATE PHOTOS PERIOD…. my drivers’ license and Costco AMEX card photos look like – WHAT? someone gave an EX-CON a DL and a credit card????
And yes, that’s about what my passport photo looks like too. Only good thing is that I can actually go into the PO in Cedar City, start the renewal paperwork, and my mailman will let me know when I need to go back.
One of the benefits of living in the smallest town in Utah.