This was the first professional photograph taken of me.
Even at that very tender age, I was already quite challenging and opinionated. I had very strong opinions about having my picture taken. I did not approve and I sure as hell did not consent. The first attempt ended in disaster. I cried, kicked and screamed for so long that the photographer suggested my mother take me for a nice stroll around the city to “calm me down.”
A couple of hours later, now too exhausted from protesting, my mother returned and the mission was accomplished. A couple of nice, acceptable pictures were taken.
But, I did not go away without leaving some trace of my displeasure with their persistence. By the time the photo session was done, I had peed on the lovely velvet upholstered chair. I don’t exactly remember whether this happened because the pee leaked through the not-so-leak-proof cotton diaper (we didn’t have the disposable leak-proof ones yet in 1957) or because they had removed my diaper because it was all the rage back then to photograph babies, especially girls, with their bottoms peeking (or fully exposed) through their frilly dresses.
Gotta start getting them used to showing off their best features after all. How else is a girl going to catch that perfect husband?
Either way, I accomplished my goal and left my less than glowing review.