By Andy Rooney
EVERY ONCE in a while, a newspaper or another publication of some kind will ask me for a picture of myself. I can never find one I want to send them.
Why don’t pictures of us ever look the way we think of ourselves as looking? Occasionally, someone will take a picture of me that’s flattering, but even that doesn’t look the way I think I look when I leave the mirror in the morning after shaving and combing my hair.
Just about every picture I’ve ever had taken of myself looks the way I look for about one instant