Guest Topic

Mama K had an upsetting adventure today. After happily maintaining the same driver's licenses photo for 8 years, the state forced her to take a new one. With a scowl and a firm belief that no one over 30 should ever have to get their picture retaken, she drove to the DMV.

Now, no one likes to get their picture taken. My own picture looks like I'm a red cheeked little elf with four inches of brown ends from the shadows of my blonde hair. As people get older, their restistance to changing drivers license photos grows greatly until 70. At 70, people are so old and wrinkled they just stopped caring. They're just excited to be driving at all.

Computerized voices called numbers in the stale air.

"42!"

"43!"

"I repeat, 42! 42!"

Mama K sat quietly, reading her book. She has "one of those faces." She looked around furtively, hoping no one would catch her eye. She did not want to hear about broken up families and disturbed people. She just wanted to read her book. When an old woman approached looking hopeful, she turned and looked the other way.

"'Scuse me!" a deep voice boomed.

Mama K looked up, afraid of what she would see. A tall woman stood in front of her. In her late sixties, wrinkles and bulge popped out of both ends of her hot pink tube tob. Her wrinkled beer belly draped over her purple hot pants that were sucked between her butt cheeks. Her large breasts were sagging and braless. She constantly tried to hitch them up with no success. Her hands had a ring on each finger that clanged whenever she moved. Mama K smiled weakly, and the woman grinned a nearly toothless grin back at her.

"Where do you get your hair done?" she cooed. "Sure got purty hair. All national looking. I want my hair to look that purty."

"Go to Regina," Mam K said, lying through her teeth. She desperately wanted this woman, who smelled like jerky and was breathing heavily over her head, to disappear.

"My hair used to be national looking," the woman said. "I was pretty hot stuff. Still am!"

"You mean natural?" Mama K corrected.

"Yea, national," the woman said, somewhat insulted. "What'd you think I said?"

Finally, Mama K's number was called and she made her way up to the line. The man at the counter was very kind. He understood women are sensitive about their looks. Plus, he had a secret desire to be a vogue photographer. He had never gotten the chance to pursue it after taking the job at the DMV. He prided himself on having the best angles on a drivers license photo.

"Ok, please turn this way," he said soothingly, sounding like a yoga instructor. He made Mama K pose several times to get the best shot. Unfortunately, Mama K was still not happy.

"This is a disaster!" she cried, flopping down on a bench. "My entire body has gone south! It's all drooping to the ground. Both of my boobs are in a race to see which one can touch the tile first. My ass is playing the same game, and my tricepts are taking side bets to see which one wins! I'm so depressed. I'm just an old lady."

"Now I think you're gorgeous," he said soothingly. He motioned for her to come closer to the bullet proof glass and whispered as if he was telling her a secret. "Should I leave your weight at 140?" he whispered, winking.

Mama K burst out laughing.

"You're a dear sweet man," she said, looking down at her legs. "But there ain't no way I could pass off as 140."

"You know what you should do," she continued, warming up to the subject. "You should have a chin strap that you can rent for the picture to pull everyone's chin back. Instead of having four chins, we could all have one."

The man patiently smiled and asked Mama K to wait a few moments. Several minutes later, he called her first name in a soft, sexy voice.

"I don't pronounce last names," he smiled. "Women are so much beautiful with just their first name. Now look at that picture. That's a fine drivers license photo."

Mama K somewhat agreed, though she would have rather stayed 8 years younger indefinitely. But she left and moved on, leaving the next woman to be charm dby the soft talking photographer. The soft talking photographer that sat safely behind bullet proof glass. You know, of course, in case anyone tried to steal the drivers license photos. You know how it is.