First, please allow me to indulge myself by stating that I have a very handsome husband. He is one dreamy, good-lookin' guy. Truly.
...it can be rather difficult...
...to get a good picture of him.
(These three are probably the best of the lot--the last one is a self-portrait. I have to say, though, that I kinda like #3 up at the top: it's 1 part freaky and 2 parts hot.)
Yes, I realize the lighting and angles and photography skills in general are bad (not all of us have SLRs, okay?), so I can't blame Jay for that. But still, after looking at these ten shots, I think it's safe to say that Jay's not going to take home the prize for Most Photogenic.
So why was I taking pictures of Jay in the first place? Believe it or not, I wasn't trying to showcase my portrait-taking ability or Jay's photogenic-ness (or lack thereof on both counts) or even our cool green accent wall; rather, I was documenting a new achievement of mine.
That's right: I have a new skill. It's actually one I never dared to make a goal of because I never thought I'd have the guts to try it. But like my parallel parking skills, I think it will serve me well in the years to come.
I cut his hair. By myself. And while it's not the best haircut Jay's ever had, it's certainly not the worst. And even though you're now scrolling back up to scrutinize (and probably find flaws with) his hair in those ten pictures, you have to admit that you didn't even notice his hair the first time you looked, did you? Which means that I didn't do too bad of a job according to Lindsay's Theory of Human Behavior #23, which states that people generally only notice things in passing that are either really good or really bad (explaining why if you play the piano in church and mess up a few times during the hymns you'll get a lot of compliments afterwards, whereas if you play without flaws no one will say anything because nothing brought their attention to you in the first place).
If I were a true blogger, I would have before and after shots and pictures of me standing with clippers and shears and (of course) a picture of the huge pile of hair on the bathroom floor. But I'm not. So you'll just have to imagine Jay with long hair. And me snipping away while Jay watched Nacho Libre on his laptop. And the pile of hair, which was really quite impressive.
Acknowledgments: I owe everything to Lindsey Whiting, a top-notch hair stylist/esthetician in my ward who gave me enough demos and coaching and pep-talks and affirmation that she convinced me this was something I could actually do. And to Jay, who really couldn't care less whether I messed his hair up or not.