So I’m trying to be a writer, focusing and honing my craft. A friend comes by and reminds me I’m also a photographer. I’m like, Duh! And she’s like , “Cool, you can come and take pictures of these gorgeous cheerleaders.” And I’m like, “What? I have more important things to do. I’ve got to re-write this story, I’ve got to start another writing course, I’m much too busy to take pictures of gorgeous cheerleaders, especially if they’re wearing tiny little outfits.” She said “Please? We’ll pay you.”
So after agonizing over it, I consent, because I like to get paid (yeah, that was my motivation). So I go downtown Tampa and take all of these pictures of these gorgeous cheerleaders wearing tiny outfits. I mean, really? I should be working on my craft, but she’s a friend and they need pictures and they were going to pay me and it’s the nice thing to do.
Now I have to go over every picture and edit them. Every. Single. Photo. Of gorgeous cheerleaders. In tiny outfits. I need to focus on other things, but because my friend needs these photos I’m going to be diligent in looking at these pix. Very, very diligent. I will not stop until every image is edited, no matter how long it takes. I will be the professional photographer I know I am and inspect these photos for any issues, blinks, stray strings, curves, skin, and anything else to be re-touched (heh heh). When I’m done I will present the finished product to my friend and thank her for the opportunity and the money. If I do well I will get more work from these scantily clad, gorgeous cheerleaders. It’s a tough job, but someone has to do it. Wish me luck.
Arid Testimony 