Fey describes photo shoots—the chic locations, the ill-fitting clothing, the free coffee bar, the various personalities of photographers, and the humiliating experience of dealing with the young woman whose “job is to stuff a middle-aged woman’s bare ass crack into a Prada dress and zip it up” (133). While you have your hair and makeup done, you receive a manicure and pedicure, and the experience is “so cozy that you could almost believe that this is your actual life” (135).

Fey lists three skills one must master for a photo shoot. First, a flattering pose involves leaning against a wall, lifting your arms slightly, and sucking in your stomach, while still “[being] yourself” (138). Second, don’t “wilt with embarrassment” (139) at the “compulsively effusive” (138) praise thrown at you by the photographers. Finally, despite knowing “you look ridiculous in a half-open dress and giant shoes” (139), try to enjoy the experience by convincing yourself you look good and by taking advantage of the elegant free lunch. After the shoot, “[y]ou may sink into a slight depression” when “your loved ones don’t call out, ‘Amazing, gorgeous, right to me!’” (140) as you resume your daily routine.

When the magazine is released, you may not, Fey warns, recognize your own face.