I was laughing out loud as I left the music studio, wondering if I would even get one decent picture out of the “photo shoot” I had just experienced. I looked at my reflection in my phone. The red apple lipstick that I tried to hide was still as bold as ever, my eyebrows were thick and droopy, and the roots of my hair were crimped.

Let me back up and explain.

I have an event coming up that requires a professional headshot. I have some, but they are outdated (read: pixie cut) so I needed to get a new one. My accompanist also needed new photos so she arranged for us to get our photos taken together. Bless her because I had no idea where to even start.

She found a photographer and a girl to do our hair and makeup. I hesitated getting my hair and makeup done but thought, what the heck, it’s all part of the experience and agreed.

The makeup artist did not speak any English, so I made a point to strike up a conversation with her in the hopes that she wouldn’t be afraid to ask my opinion on colors/style/etc. I did not want language to be a barrier in this situation.

However, a couple things reaffirmed my fear that I would not end up looking my best:

1. When I asked her if she liked her job, she said the English equivalent of “it’s alright.” Now, to be fair, this might not be a result of her lack of passion for or knowledge about makeup and hair, but rather a result of disrespectful clients.
2. Even though we were conversing in Chinese, she never asked my opinion on colors or makeup style. To be fair again, this could have been because she had limited options. I couldn’t tell.
3. She used her mascara bottle’s wand. (Usually when you get your makeup done, the artist will have disposable mascara wands that they never double dip in the bottle because that spreads nasty eye germs to each client.) Unfortunately, my eyes were closed when she went in with the mascara, so by the time I knew what was happening, it was too late.
4. There wasn’t a mirror anywhere so I couldn’t see the progress.

Before she did my hair, she asked what I wanted it to look like. I showed her a couple pictures of ladies with natural curls and volume and she promptly went to work. With the crimper.

In order to achieve the desired amount of volume, she crimped the top of my hair. Maybe it’s just the part you can’t see, I thought. That kind of made sense to me. And for the most part, I was right. But my final photo definitely shows crimped hair if you know where to look…

I paid her and thanked her for her kindness and checked my little mirror. Bright red lipstick, no contour to bring out any dimension, and flat, bold eyebrows. Definitely not how I would choose to look, but alright.

Let the photo-taking commence.

The photographer’s name was Garlos. Yes, you read that right. Garlos. Say it out loud with your best Spanish accent and hold it in your mind as I proceed with the story.

Garlos was a young Chinese student who spoke limited English. He seemed like a pretty cool guy. I asked him if he was from Guangzhou and he told me he was just here for school. I asked if he studied photography and he just laughed and said, “No, I study mathematics.”

“Oh, so photography is just something you do for fun?”

“Yes!”

Hmm.

So instead of Carlos the photographer, I have Garlos the not- photographer.

Still, things were going pretty normal until I asked if I could redo my portrait shots. That’s when it got exciting. He kept commenting on how much he loved my nose. He asked me to pose in a way that showed off my nose.

My nose? You mean the nose with the giant bump? If you say so. But how on earth do I show off my nose for a headshot? I was laughing hysterically inside and it only got worse (or better, depending on how you look at it).

He saw my hands and really wanted me to “show off my slim fingers.” So he directed me to twirl my hair like a giddy little school girl and run my fingers through my hair like a model on an Herbal Essences commercial.

He asked me to “look cool.” I just laughed and asked him what ‘cool’ looks like. He told me to put up my chin and look seriously at the camera. I was dying inside and keeping a straight face at this point was a real challenge.

After unsuccessfully attempting to show off my fingers and my nose (perhaps I should have just picked my nose?), he had an idea. He pulled up his tablet and scrolled through a bunch of photos until he found the ones he wanted. “Here! Look at these!”

Images of a model in stilettos, a stringy thong, and an almost see-through white t-shirt came up. Am I supposed to be looking at her face? He pointed to the picture where she had one of her fingers over her mouth. “Like this! Do you get it?”

“Oooooh… I get it.” It was too much and I couldn’t keep it in any longer. I laughed out loud and walked back to my position. I couldn’t wait to see what these pictures would look like in the end.

After a couple days, he sent me the file with the pictures he liked best. Unfortunately, only a few of the hilarious ones made the cut. No giddy school girl. Darn. But I chose one that would be good enough for the event and sent it to him for final editing.

He sent the final image through Wechat, the main messaging app in China. The picture was pretty small, so at first all I knew was that I looked wrong. Upon further inspection, I realized my nose was the culprit. After all that “showing off my nose” he gave me a virtual nose job! The hilarity continued.

“Thank you so much! They look great! I only have one question. I think that nose is not my nose (laughing emoji) can you change it back to look like my nose? Then it will feel more like me.”

He apologized and said he would fix it. But soon texted back and said “actually, I change it a little. Are you sure change it back?” And he attached the before and after picture zoomed in on my nose. (I love how honest the Chinese are when it comes to looks.)

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I responded, “Yes…with a new nose I don’t think it looks like me. I know my nose isn’t perfect, but it’s part of me so I like it how it is.”

So he gave me my nose back…mostly. He didn’t bring back my smile lines or any other wrinkles that make me me, but this will have to do for now.

Until next time, Garlos.