"School Photo’s", even just by hearing those words project across the classroom forces my hands to become clammy, my heartbeat increase a couple of beats and a shrill scream of fear eject from my mouth. As you can tell from that previous description, school photo’s unfortunately haven’t been the most pleasant experience for me…

After thirteen years in education you already know that you’ve had ANOTHER unsuccessful attempt of a school photo when your own mother, the person who is 50% of the reason as to why you look as you do, winces, I REPEAT, winces at the photo! After years and years of seeing the same mortified reaction followed by “i’ve seen better photo’s of you…” has strongly justified that I am highly un-photogenic and should probably have a five month pre-warning of “dooms day” so I can book myself into the nearest plastic surgery clinic for a face transplant.

Is there a strict agenda that the DREADED day of School Photo’s has to stick to? From past experience, it seems this agenda involves:

• EXTREMELY bad hair days which almost suggest that you haven’t brushed your hair for five years, or that you were mauled by a pack of ravenous wolves moments before the “click” of the camera
• A volcanic eruption of acne the night before which is emphasised further by the powerful flash which practically reveals your darkest secrets (hopefully it didn’t reveal that I aspired to be Katie Price when I was younger and used to stuff my vest with excessive amounts of tissue to create her “look”)
• RAIN. WHY. Why is it the day of school photo’s that the sky has a tendency to represent Niagara Falls? Why is it the day of school photo’s that the wind decides to pick up, forcing my umbrella to turn inside out and violently drag me through a muddy puddle?(Mary Poppins? I think so)  And why is it only after the school photo has been taken someone decides to tell me that my mascara has run all down my face, I have lipstick on my teeth and my hair has suddenly become a habitat for a family of birds?

After numerous school photo’s being taken, you begin to have an “idea” of what went wrong on the day. So you would think after thirteen years I would of cracked the system and achieved a semi-decent school photo where I don’t represent the modern day version of Frankenstein…

However, the day of the final showdown swung by quickly and I felt positive - there was no sign of rain. I’d spent an extra five minutes straightening my fringe and had even equipped myself with the rather large hairbrush to school - this was the day, this was it… 

Except it wasn't… Two days later I nervously typed in my code to reveal the school photo. “Tap tap tap click”, after what felt like a lifetime the page finally loaded… Would my hair be elegantly flowing over my shoulder? Would my teeth look pearly white and perfectly straight?… a HOWL of laughter erupted from my lungs as the photo was revealed - not only was a ‘MA-HOOSIVE’ spot made prominent on my cheek, i’d also had my photo taken THREE times, so the pictures reveal a gradual, slightly creepy/psychotic smile throughout the three photos (I definitely think the photographer was a strong believer in the saying “third time lucky” as she tried to capture at least ONE good photo)

So, that’s it, thirteen years of school photos and there’s still not one adorning our mantle piece. All in all, you end up with a face only your mother could love and in my circumstances even she was doubtful.

25/09/2013