Like a lot of people, I don’t enjoy having my picture taken.
Hold on. I typed “like a lot of people” almost automatically, as one of those thumbsucker openings that allows a writer to warm up before diving into what he/she/ze really means to say. As soon as I wrote it, though, I started to wonder. This is the era of the selfie, when people are willing to go to such lengths to photograph themselves that they risk their lives doing it. (Also not recommended: selfies with wildlife.) Does that mean we’re collectively more comfortable with being on camera than we were before death by selfie became a thing?
Maybe. There’s a difference between taking your own photo (though I don’t enjoy that either) and being a subject in the classic sense. Selfies give you the illusion of control; sitting for a picture requires that you allow yourself to be observed. I was reminded of that recently when I realized it had been 10 years since I had author photos taken and that it was past time to get new ones.
So I did, and here they are, courtesy of D.A. Peterson, photog (and fellow D.C. native), and I don’t hate them at all. 
