Gouda!

If I'm going to be avoiding the warm spots in the online dating pool, I need a good picture of myself. And this is a problem. I'm about as photogenic as a train wreck, providing the train wreck appears to either have two chins or none at all, and is photographed with its eyes closed.

I need a picture that looks like me, only me on a day with flattering lighting. I admit I have some issues with my appearance to begin with, and the idea of putting my picture out there for consumption and scrutiny scares the sh*t out of me. I imagine guys looking at my picture and then forwarding it to their buddies to laugh at.

If you think that's irrational, I'm also morbidly afraid of a spider laying eggs in my ear while I sleep. I haven't yet seen a spider in my apartment, but according to News of the Weird it happens more than you'd think. That should give you just a small taste of the neuroses I juggle every day, while still managing to come to work with pants on.

Want more neuroses? I dated a guy once in Calgary who was extremely good looking, but I got tired of just going to his place to watch movies. I suggested we go out somewhere instead, and he told me he didn't think I was pretty enough for him to be seen in public with, but he hoped we could keep seeing each other anyway.

I know this doesn't fully explain my anxiety or why I set fire to his car. (Alright - it totally explains why I set fire to his car. I didn't really, but I wanted to and that's what you should say if the police ever mention it). Darren was a raving ass-hat for sure, but it was still one of those moments that get stored away in the most vulnerable folds of the ego and left there to rot.

I would describe myself as unconventionally pretty, and when you stand 5'11 barefoot like I do, you lose the ability to call yourself cute. Those who know me, know I'm not ugly but damned if I can take a picture to prove it.

Should anybody know of a photographer with the patience and inner-zen of the Buddha himself, let me know. This person will have to put up with at least several hours of comments like, "Hmm. I think this one makes me look too pointy."

Vanity isn't my problem, but sometimes I have a little trouble with reality.