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Another birthday, a new driver’s license

Upon getting her new driver’s license, a woman remarked, “You could not have found a better way to get me to obey the law. I have no desire to show this photo to anyone.”
I read something similar to that above tidbit in a Reader’s Digest several years ago.
I know exactly how that woman felt, because that was my reaction after I got my license in the mail back in 2010. I apparently couldn’t afford a hair cut for several months and my glasses looked liked they had been caught in a propellor — the frames were definitely twisted. And my expression wasn’t much better. I looked like I had just bitten into something sour.
I never wanted to show that picture to anyone, which is why I was careful to obey the law so I wouldn’t get pulled over, and got a debit card instead of writing a check that would require an ID.
My license expires this month, so I went in Friday to get it renewed.
But I planned in advance. Thursday I got my hair cut and colored so I wouldn’t look even older than I am. I made sure I got a decent night’s sleep so I wouldn’t have dark circles under my eyes.
I showered Friday and carefully blow dried and styled my hair. I was choosing a wardrobe that would have been suitable for Oscar night before I finally got a hold of myself. Really, this was just too much effort for a driver’s license photo.
I went to the North Complex and dutifully filled out paper work and took an eye test.
Then came the true test — the photograph. I patted my hair down, checked my teeth in the reverse camera image on my phone to make sure I didn’t have a big chunk of chicken caught in them, straightened my glasses and took my place in front of the screen, trying to smile personably while my picture was taken.
“Oh, that turned out nice,” said the woman, as she showed me the picture on a computer screen.
Well, certainly better than the last one, which is what I was hoping for.
Now, I’m just waiting for the new license to come in the mail to see if I really look as good as I hoped.
So, in a couple of weeks, if you notice me driving exactly 54 miles per hour in a 55 mph zone, you’ll know it didn’t turn out well.
On other hand, if you see me pulled over on the side of the road in front of a cop car with flashing lights …