How did that get in there? I wondered when I opened my wallet to see a rather up-to-date picture of my younger brother. Hey wait, that’s not my brother—that’s me. I was looking at my new driver’s license.
I hadn’t taken the time to examine my license when it came in the mail. In a hurry, I had simply signed and stuffed it into the window slot of my wallet.
Could a picture lie? I did remember standing in front of the camera at the license renewal office. At the time, the girl behind the desk at the camera station didn’t show me my picture. She simply nodded approval. I thought that meant I looked good.
Well, at least I wasn't looking at a picture of my older brother, the one with the beard—a possibility, the way the hairs have been sprouting on my chin lately.
I turned the license over and buried it deep in my wallet.
But drastic situations require desperate measures. This is why I signed for an hour with an image consultant as part of my writer’s conference package.