Getting that new passport photo

Hi. I have to get a new passport, and this means getting a new photo. I've never had a good photo taken of me. How come people like actor Hugh Grant can look cute in mug shots when they get arrested and I look terrible when I actually pose?
I picked the most well-known photography shop in town. No slap-dash chemist-shop-across-the-road for me, no siree. Nothing could be left to chance to obtain the photo that naturally would be bad but, hopefully, wouldn't be utterly terrible.
Well, the photo was absolutely positively utterly utterly utterly terrible!
Was it truly me in the photo? It couldn't be. I looked ancient. My hair was... grey! (oh, thank goodness that was just the light but what sort of photographer allows a subject to have grey hair?) I had crow's feet. I had wrinkles. There was a sort of a wart-like lump under my eye
I had practised non-smiling for, well, minutes before-hand. Practise didn't help.
To make matters worse the photographer had said "No glasses allowed. Take them off."
"What?" I'd rather have taken off my top. "But my glasses are me. I can't take them off."
"New rules," said the photographer. Glasses show a glint. No glints allowed."
I hadn't plucked my eyebrows. The photographer moved in close. Real close.
He was loathe to let me look at the finished product. After I'd all but wrestled the digital camera from his hands, I understood why. He obviously figured I would run from the shop without paying.
I was told to return in 20 minutes for the photo. I perked up. "You can photo-shop it, yes?" I beamed. "Make me beautiful. Make me like Jennifer Aniston please..."
"Sorry," the guy said. "That's not allowed."
There's one bright light on the horizon. I'm going to the chemist-shop-across-the-road next week for another go at a passport photo. And if that photo's terrible, I'll try another place. Then another ...
byeeee