I had four hours of

I had four hours of sleep, awoke to my brother saying, "The photographer is here." This is the worst way to wake up. I had all of ten minutes to get dressed and ready to be photographed for a magazine.

Photographed six hundred times.

It felt like the scene in Lost in Translation, with the photographer asking me to hold a strawberry up to my face. No, not like I'm going to eat it, but like I'm presenting the strawberry. And smile. And aim your cheekbones this way. And drape your leg over this chair.

Sounds sexual, I know.

Regan found her way into a few shots. Here's to hoping that it's one that's used, but the odds of that are slim. That shutter was going off continuous for three hours straight. Luck of the draw, I guess. I'm just praying that they don't use the strawberry photos. I'm just going to go back to sleep now.