Don't Touch B's Face

As I mentioned in the last post, we asked the photographer not to touch B's face. Here is the story about how we learned B didn't like his face touched.

My nephew had his first communion over in Ireland in May and B and I went (as did my brothers). Since B and I had gotten engaged two weeks earlier (he purposely did it before we went although my family members who knew a proposal was coming thought it was going to take place in Ireland), my sister wanted to give us an engagement gift. But didn't know what to give us since whatever the gift was, we would have to travel with it. She decided to give us an engagement photo. She had one done before her wedding and they called it a "Love Portrait". I am not sure how B will take it since we both don't like the pictures that are taken to just show off the ring. My sister asks me if we want one and I say "Sure but you need to tell B. He won't say no if you tell him." So she asks if it would be okay if she gifts us an engagement photo and B of course accepts.

On the day of the communion, my sister had Ryan's picture taken as well as ones of her family. In addition, Ann, Rich, Bill and myself had a family portrait taken (this picture was 25 years in the making) and last we would have the Love Portrait taken. We arrive in Dundalk (I think) and wait in the lobby for our appointment. We are summoned up the stairs and into another waiting area but this one had seats and Irish wedding magazines. About 10 minutes later, the door opens and out walks the photographer. He is indescribable. He is maybe five feet tall, barefoot, and dressed all in white like a dentist. Several of us stifle a laugh. Ryan goes in and has all his pictures taken (and looks dashing in them by the way) and then the rest of the family follows. Once they are done, Ann, Rich, Bill and I enter and take our pictures. At this point, I have started to laugh uncontrollable (and unlike me in the priest's office and the Republican club, others are laughing with me). We take a few pictures and then it is Love Portrait time.

B comes into the room while the photographer (who is the closest thing to a leprechaun we have ever seen) sets up to take our photos. Ann stays in the room with us - I think she was the director of the photo shoot but I could be wrong. So the photographer begins to position us and it is okay. Because I am still laughing I am sure some of the takes are awful. However, I somehow pull myself together and he takes a few pictures. Though he doesn't just take them. He stands on these foot stools (because he is on the shorter side) and looks the lens while saying "I'm watching. I'm watching. I'm watching" and then click photo taken. Um, ok. This just adds to my laughing fit. And seriously, Ann is laughing too. It was not just me though I don't think she had tears streaming down her face between takes like I did. But still. She was laughing too.

For one of the last set of pictures taken, the photographer comes in to reposition us (and I am laughing while he does this as well) and he moves my hand around and asks me to tilt my head. Then he looks at B and begins to reposition him...by touching his face. B doesn't like it and I think at this point he is ready to be out of there. But we take some photos. I don't know if it is a guy think or what. But because of that, we asked Sarah not to touch his face. Luckily, her style is photojournalism and she minimizes her interaction with the picture's subjects.