COVER GIRL COVERED BY COVER LINE

I don't know where yesterday went. So much so that I don't know where my recollection of the sweeps I entered went. I believe it was sponsored by Cover Girl, a trip to the Bahamas. I meant to TinyURL and blog it, but I got distracted. (Update: I was correct on both counts, Cover Girl and the Bahamas. To enter, click HERE.)

True story: I was a cover girl once. I was in a group shot for the cover of Washingtonian Magazine. My friend was the photo editor at the time, and they wanted about six regular people to surround the the two professional models they were using for a cover story on, gee, in keeping with the amnesia theme here, I can't remember what. Of course I was one of the regular people. We went to an impressive photographer's studio in Georgetown and spent a good few hours posing and smiling.

When the magazine came out, I recognized the regular people I'd posed with, and the two models, who were spectacular specimens of photogeneticity, if that's the noun, another hole in the language, but I was nowhere to be seen. Rather, I was to be seen, but not in toto. I could see my limbs and my skirt and some of my hair, but my face, my one shot at Cover Girl status, was covered by the cover line, by one large letter, I forget which, maybe an H. End of story.