No more white girl

A few blogs back, I posted about how I, somewhere along the way, accidentally became registered as a republican. The news caught me quite by surprise, and caused me to really sit down and ponder my "true" identity.

Last week, I went to the DMV to replace my license. Since I was 16, I have lived with a photograph on my license that, essentially, made me look like the gangster love child of Elvira. Why such a terrible picture, you ask? Well, you see, a large part of the problem was that, as I was having my picture taken, an attractive young male was observing the process. Nervous, I kept giggling and moving. On the fourth attempt to capture my likeness, I decided to refrain from moving. And smiling. The end result was so bad that my youth pastor actually photocopied my license and put it up on his bulletin board for all to enjoy. I've lived with that picture for 7 years, and I often make jokes when I have to show it to cashiers and bouncers. I say things like, "Don't be jealous, I know this is the best picture you've ever seen" or "be prepared for splendid beauty" (I actually just thought that one up, I don't think I've ever actually said it). I also, on occasion, have pulled out gym membership cards, with more cheerful, flattering photos, to prove that I do, on occasion, look happy.

On that fateful day back in 1998, I promised myself that when I had a great haircut and unblemished skin, I would venture to DMV to retake my photo. Getting both to line up can only be compared to waiting for a lunar eclipse. Which finally arrives when the DMV is, regrettably, closed. Two weeks ago, I finally decided that, regardless of hair and skin alignment, the time had come. With the upcoming renewal of my license coming due, I decided to take matters into my own hands and take a picture that would, if nothing else, look a bit more like the real me.

Today my license came in the mail. It appears that, in addition to changing political parties, I have also managed to switch ethnicities. I have, in essence, pulled a "reverse Michael Jackson". The coloring in the photo is so dark that I look like an actress in an old western - you know, the ones where they used white people to play American Indians and just smeared orangey-brown make-up all over the actors' fish-belly white skin in an attempt to fool the audience. I'm not sure what ethnicity I'm supposed to be, but I sure as hell don't look like the glow-in-the-dark Irish I most take after.

I thought that 2006 would bring about a new me, but, clearly, I had no idea just how new.

Oh well. At least I remembered to smile.