A bad day for humility

I went clothes shopping today. Kinda.

I mean, when I go “shopping” it basically means I have in my mind’s eye an image of exactly what I hope to find, and heaven help a salesperson who shows me something that’s the wrong shade of mossy silver-green. Or whatever. (This is all hypothetical, of course.)

But today I went out (with two different “looks” in mind) searching for an interestingly textured dark grey dress shirt, and a grayish brown hoodie. And found… an interestingly textured dark grey dress shirt, and a grayish brown hoodie. Both of which fit me.

In fact, when I got home and tentatively modeled them for Mark, he–Mr. “I’ll Buy New Jeans When the Legs Fall Completely Off the Ones I Have”–made a subtle but unmistakably approving noise under his breath. I made some good choices.

And at CASA today two of the kids complemented my hair, which I had just after lunch gotten cut, leaving the bangs longer than I’ve had them since college.

So, taking inventory: I have jeans I love, shirts I love, a jacket I love. I have a haircut I feel good about, an amazing location for the shoot, and a photographer whose work (at least as much as his personality) really impresses me.

Oh crap. This means if the pictures don’t turn out, there’s nothing left to blame but my face.

No pressure, Dave.

What do you say to that?