photo editing skillz

One of the first things we were asked to do after we arrived at our school was to have photos made. We needed a few 1x1 inch and passport-sized pictures to use on our various and sundry ID badges.

We had our picturess taken at a place near our apartments, and, as requested, we gave the school a passport photo and two smaller photos.

Two weeks passed, and they told us they needed another small photo. No problem. We had each bought four copies.

The next week they wanted one more. How many ID cards do we have to carry?!, we wondered. We started getting suspicious. The two working theories are:

a) They keep losing the photos and don't want to admit it. Plausible, because a different person requested the photos each time.
b) They were making a collage and needed fillers. Less likely, but more amusing.

We handed over our last photos, thinking that five were more than enough to make our ID cards. Alas, at the beginning of this week they asked for yet another photo. This meant a second visit to our neighborhood photo shop.

But simple errands here are never simple.

I went alone and asked for four small photos. "120 baht," said the clerk. I had paid 80 before, and I told her so. She argued with me for a bit, but I was firm. She ran it past the older guy manning the digital camera. He looked put off, but agreed to the price.

By the time I sat down, I was irritated. He motioned at me not to smile, so I didn't. When a dozen photos printed out 15 minutes later, he snipped four of them apart, put them in a plastic baggie, and (somewhat aggressively) thrust the baggie and the remaining sheet of photos at me.

It was the most horrific picture I've ever taken. It could have easily been a mugshot; the only thing missing was an orange jumpsuit. Even worse, the lighting was off, making half my face look super shiny. Whatever. I didn't want to argue with them anymore.

I turned in my photo the next day.

Today, one of the teachers came into our office and informed me that my photo wouldn't work. I was wearing a tank top when it was taken, which is a no-no.

I was vexed. I did NOT want to deal with the rude photo shop man again, and I didn't want to waste money on more unattractive photos.

While venting about my predicament at lunch, I hit on a workable - even brilliant - solution. I would draw in a new shirt.

The other girls thought it would work, and one offered me her Sharpie. I carefully filled in my offensive, exposed shoulders, replacing the green tank top with a black V-neck.

I showed it to the others. They said it looked legitimate. Pleased with my tricksy solution, my mood improved.

Looking at the photo an hour later, I felt less sure. I decided to wait and turn it in tomorrow.

One of two things will happen. The optimist in me hopes the photo passes without a second glance. The realist in me predicts that I'll be greeted with a look that says, "You're an idiot."