Keep Your Chin Up — And Use the Soft, White Light.

Some of the details of this story have been changed to protect me from getting my tires slashed.

The other day I got an email from an aesthetician asking me if I would partake in a photo shoot for people with dry skin issues (my skin is very dry). Though acquaintances, we had never met in person. Her clientele is uber-hip and the ever so funky Austin scene crowd. You know. People with eyebrow piercings, braided pigtails and adorable newsboy hats that look fab on them. Half of them are probably red hot smokin’ roller derby girls and hold their status as MILFs in higher regard than their degrees in sociology from St. Ed’s. Remember when getting a tattoo was all it took to be hip? But I digress. The goal with the aesthetician was a “Before and After” kind of thing — I was going to get a facial and some tips on an effective skin care routine and keeping my skin healthy and moisturized. In return, she would get to use my before and after pics in her portfolio. Sounded like a win-win.

One thing that I was asked to do was take some pictures of my skin so the aesthetician could have a heads up on what to expect in person. No big deal, right? I pull out my camera phone in anticipation of a quick snap-shoot-email. I take a picture and check the photo. “Eeeww. That doesn’t look so good.” Snap, snap, snap. “Hmmmm. Wow, I look tired, let me get in a better light.” Snap, click, snap. “WTF? Why are these jowl-looking things appearing in my picture? I better get a real camera.” I pull out my $100 three year old pink digital camera and start snapping away. Of course, it doesn’t help that I haven’t had a shower or washed my face since the day before and eyeliner is making my — “Gasp! Are those bags under my eyes?!?” I call my son Hank over to come take pictures of me. It’s obvious that I am holding the camera too close. Right? Right?

Hank’s pictures came out no better and I didn’t want to humiliate myself any more in front of him, so I took control of the camera again. Snap, click, pose, tilt head, chin down. Chin down. That was when it it me. I couldn’t point my chin down without getting the dreaded double chin. Tilting chin down + extra weight = not so good. And I have the pictures to prove it. Flustered but undaunted, I took pictures in natural light, indirect light, smiling, straight face (that’s when the jowlage appeared). In one of the pictures, I could have passed for a streetwalker after a night of backseat lovin’. I finally got a picture that I could laugh off if I saw it floating around on the internet. It only took about 25-30 shots to get it. Thank heaven for low light with its natural blur.

I had to come to terms with the fact that, alas, I’m getting older, and sigh, I do have that extra weight, and whimper – I better get my butt moving. I can’t do much about the getting older part (unless you count coloring my hair every three weeks and wearing age inappropriate clothing), because after seeing the gorgeous Ms. Kidman getting botox at 43, it kind of makes me sad to go that route–and anyway, I don’t think Blue Cross Blue Shield covers it. I can do something about my weight. Here’s to less chins.

After getting a somewhat not-totally-embarrassing photo, I email it to the asethetician two days ago so she could view my skin. I get a prompt reply that the photo is exactly what she needed. Fast forward to today, two days before my appointment. I received an email this morning, not from the aesthetician herself, but from someone on her behalf, saying, “Unfortunately, we will not be able to use you for our skin care Before and After. We have been informed that your skin is not dry enough. Thanks.” Translation: Well, you know.

I don’t think it’s too self-absorbed to acknowledge the glaring fact that, although I admittedly have some self-image issues, this was simply about not being hip/young/cool enough. Maybe if I was a 46 year old multi-instrumentalist Grammy-winning single parent rock star with children adopted from Vietnam who doesn’t even have a nanny and sings duets with Willie Nelson, I would’ve made the cut. But being a 46 year old somewhat, er, rather curvaceous mom who drives a ten year old Camry with a spoiler and 150,000 miles on the engine did not get me in the cool category. Ahhh, hip youth. I remember well the days of living in NYC and taking a cab to the Limelight and being pointed at by the bald bouncer to skip to the head of the line and enter the club ahead of those “older, frumpy people.” Gulp. Those days are OVUH.

I am just curious if my celebrity “age peers” — Sandra Bullock, Shania Twain, Courteney Cox and Brooke Shields — ever feel frumpy and old? I mean, Demi Moore is twittering her tight little buns all over the internet, but why? And now Lisa Rinna uploads images of her hot bod (and her face, sans makeup) in response. Do they have something to prove? And is that so wrong?

If I have learned one thing this week it is this — I’m never taking another picture of myself using using my crappy camera phone, a webcam, or anything that offers over 1 megapixel of resolution without appropriate backup: stylist, makeup artist and professional photographer. And lighting! I can’t forget the lighting! I’m definitely hiring the Barbara Walters lighting crew- love me some soft, white light.

And thank you, Jefferson Douglas, for telling me, “You’re still hotter than a skillet of fried baloney.”