But I was just doing what Sheryl Sandberg told me to!

Andy and I sent off his US visa forms this week. We each needed a 2x2 inch photo to pair with our 'Biographic Information' page. There's a kiosk in the Post Office by our house that does all types of official ID photos, so we pooled our change (£7 each!!) and took turns behind the curtain.

Example photo booth. Not the actual kiosk we used.
Image by Paste Talk via Wikimedia Commons

Andy went first, while I bought scissors, envelopes, paperclips and pretty much every other office material required to send a letter. That happens every time. I swear, each Post Office visit costs me at least £20.

His photo turned out great. He even managed to get a smize in there. That handsome devil.

Then, it was my turn. Andy had lowered the stool so he could squeeze himself into the tight quarters, but I couldn't figure out how to raise it back up again. Instead, I just did this hover-squat thing and focused on lining my noggin up perfectly with the oval outline on the screen.

4  3  2  1...CHEESE!

Happy with my first take, I pressed the print button and listened to the machine's miniature mechanical brushstrokes paint my face with ink.

After about a minute, the pics dropped into the tray and OH MY GOD MY HEAD. It was huge. It made Andy's look like a grape with shoulders. He looked at it and said, "Hmm...why did you lean in?"

I seriously don't think they'll accept it, but it's not like I had another seven £1 pound coins stuffed in my wallet. So off it went—recorded delivery.

Hopefully they're so bewildered by the bowl cut that they just stamp 'accepted' and send us the visa posthaste.

Nighty night,
Smadge