Picture Day

I used to raise my eyebrows when I smiled. It was involuntary. I thought it made my face bigger. Brighter. Happier looking. On picture day I borrowed a blue shirt from my friend. I didn’t have a lot of nice clothes. She didn’t either really but I liked the shirt. I put my hair in two buns. I thought I looked cute. Or at least fun. Which was my thing…looking fun. When my number was called I sat down in the chair. I picked my background. A starburst, I think. The photographer told me to smile and I did. A big one. A fun one. He took my picture and then told me to put my eyebrows down. I tried again. He said they were still raised. So I tried again. He came over and put his hand on my face and pushed them down. Then he went back to his camera and tried to take the picture again. By now I was crying. The people behind me looked worried. The photographer gave up. I went to a corner and let myself sob. I didn’t want anyone to know I didn’t know how to smile correctly. So I wiped my tears and went to class. I picked up the pictures a week later but never looked at them. I hid the pictures from my mom. It might have been in the yearbook but I didn’t buy one. A year later I learned how to smile with my eyebrows down. So I drove by the photographers store and threw eggs at it.