Barack Obama

Probably some of my aversion to being photographed comes from the years of hell with my husband, a maniacal photographer who kept a camera in my face half the time. I hated it. It was like living with my own papparazo, and I wasn't famous or well known. He didn't even appreciate my efforts to please, always complained about his model rather than his attitude. On my own initiative I once skiddled out on a rock ledge with a sheer drop below of hundreds of feet; my toes were sticking out over the ledge, that's how narrow it was. Not good enough for him, though. That was probably the final straw in my waning loyalties.