Tuesday, September 29, 2009

The Saddest Place on Earth

The Ohio BMV is a place where vanity goes to die.  Between the duct taped indoor/outdoor carpeting, the Aqua Net sealed work force and the fluorescent lighting, there is no hope.  I have always tried valiantly to look human, if not attractive in my driver's license photo.  Here in Ohio you get a chance to try again every four years, so you'd think the odds would be in my favor.  I have yet to achieve anything short of disaster.  My first DL was an old school cut-and-paste affair, with an underage profile shot.  The state cut off the very end of my nose before affixing my photo to the I.D.  When I was newly married and feeling sassy I tried a little harder to gussy muhself up. The resulting photo was me impersonating Judy Jetson after dipping her face in cooking oil.  When Violet was a wee four months old, I was forced to put in my nursing pads and make the trek to the office of doom.  I made an effort, I truly did.  I showered and put on my some mascara.  I'm even wearing my favorite necklace.  But, the BMV, she does not lie.  Here is that classic of identification art:

If you can tear yourself away from that terrifying visage, take a gander at my official state weight.  Insert maniacal laughter here.  Mama hasn't seen that number in many moons, but they don't make you change it, no matter obvious it is that you no longer fit that description.

In less than a month's time, I will have to do this all over again.  I swear, this time will be different, because basic human, present-ability is no longer my goal.

Yesterday, I sent my husband off to the license bureau with an assignment.  His last DL made him look like a homicidal maniac without him even trying, so I thought, why not try for absurdity on purpose.  I told him to present for the camera the face of a man who had just farted and was really hoping that no one noticed.   In the interest of marital harmony, I cannot share that photo with, but I will say this:


I laughed good and long.  Take that Ohio Bureau of Motor Vehicles!  You cannot debase us with your unflattering photography.  The citizens of this great state will take control of their own identities. It won't be pretty, but it never has been, so watch out BMV employees. I'm coming and I'm going to try my hardest to creep you out.

This is where that Theater degree really pays off.  Only, I'm not sure what "face" I should put on.  I need to tell a tale with just my eyes.  Suggestions?

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