Lights! Camera! Acne!

Archer has infant acne pretty much since the day we took him home from the hospital. At nearly five months, its still going strong. I hold myself responsible no matter what our pediatrician says. My skin hasn't been blemish-free since the ice age and he is my son, expelling my hormones for the both of us. Magically, my skin has been perfect since his birth. The doctor tells me that it will go away by month three. Ahem. Here we are on the verge of month five, still going strong.

Anyway, like most momz, I am camera-happy when it comes to Captain Sagebrush. I have taken at least 10,907,678,298.0675 pictures: Digital, manual, black&white, sepia toned, medium format... I shot a roll of especially cute photos about a month ago and decided to blow up a couple to send the extended family. 8x10's, a few 5x7's, several dozen 4x6's. I wanted for every person I have ever come into contact with to have their own piece of Mr. Sagebrush. In my past life of odd jobs I made a few bucks freelancing as a headshot photographer so naturally I went to my usual professional photo lab to place my order.

"I would like 5A and 6A blown up, please. White borders. And would you mind, airbrushing the cheeks a little bit?"
"Sure. Is this for a head shot?"
"God, no. The kid is three months old."

Around Here, everyone has headshots. The plummer. The landlord. The headshot photographer. That's why it didn't surprise the photo lab that I was blowing up 8x10's of my (then) three month old.

The lady gave me the "sure thing, stagemom" look (yes, there is such a look) and gave me my mock-up reciept.

It should have been that simple. Dropping off an order for pick up next week but there were problems with the proof and I had to come in to make sure the touch-up was suitable. There were prints to approve and weeks of decision making all for a friggin photo touch-up.

When I went back to lab to aprove the "final," another woman was working the front desk.
"I know this face. He does comedy, right?"
"He's three months old. He is not an actor."
"I see."

No one believed me. What the hell? Is it so odd to touch-up blemishes on a family portrait? Does that make me a stagemom? What would Jesus do? Is it not true that Sears and and every other cheese-louise portrait studio does the same thing? And yes, the pictures turned out gorgeous but was it worth it: all the pain and sweat and tears and eyerolls and "sure thing, stagemom" looks?