Have you ever heard of Ford Models? No, not the cars. The modeling agency. There was a 
Ford Modeling Agency about a mile from our home, and I signed up for classes when I was nineteen. I had no illusions of being a model in New York City; I was simply tired of being gawky.
For me, it was like acting. I loved learning about hair, fashion, and how to walk a runway, but most of all, I loved learning how to apply makeup.
I was reminded of this fun time in my life yesterday as I stood in front of the bathroom mirror applying full makeup. I wanted more coverage than that of the mineral powders everyone is pushing right now, so I went full-spackle with a foundation, followed by a light dusting of loose powder. Blush, three shades of brown shadow, false lash mascara, eyebrow pencil, lip liner, and an all day lipstick. I removed the hot rollers that were curling my hair, and I picked out a pretty maroon shirt with a nice detail and gold buttons.
Twenty minutes later I was having my picture taken as I renewed my driver’s license.
That’s right. I put on all that make-up for my driver’s license photo. For four years, I’ve had the driver’s license from hell. The lighting is terrible in the BMV, and my last picture had yellow hair. Not blonde, but bright yellow! Last week I chose to do my hair in a light auburn shade simply 
because of the upcoming picture. There was no way they could turn auburn into yellow. Four years ago, I had chopped off most of my hair, and I don’t know if I tumbled out of bed just before I had the picture taken, but my hair looked like something styled by Moe of the Three Stooges. Every time I had to hand that license to someone (I still write a lot of checks), I wanted to die, or at least melt into the floor.
Yesterday, I was determined to get a good picture worthy of the next four years.
It was windy as I walked into the BMV. I was aware of my hair blowing around. Before I could even take a number and sit down, I was called to the counter. What are the odds of that happening? There wasn’t a spare second to run a brush through my hair before the woman wanted to take my picture. I told myself it would be ok; my windblown hair would give the picture a sexy look.
I looked down into the camera, because it wasn’t at eye level. I expected a “1-2-3” or at least a “ready?” from the woman, but the next thing I knew, she was telling me to have a seat. Five minutes later, I was walking out with my new license.
The picture is on the dark side. My makeup doesn’t show up whatsoever, and my hair is blonde, not auburn. It doesn’t look windblown and sexy; it looks like someone flattened it. There is no expression on my face, no smile, and as the picture was taken at an angle from under my chin, I look like a criminal.
The only good thing about the license – IT’S PINK! 
I cry false advertising!! Her picture is well lit. You can see the highlighting under her eyebrows, and her lipstick even shows. She has a smile, and the picture was taken straight on. I’m hating on our BMV today.
I’m finally going to make the move to a debit card so I never have to hand my license over to anyone ever again. Well, other than the policeman who is surely going to stop me one of these days as I blow up and down the Interstate to and from my mother’s house. He’ll think I look like a criminal and run a background check on me.
Do you try to look your best for your driver’s license? Are you happy with your picture? Do you look like a criminal?
Breezy Books 