This weekend we got an exciting gift. You see, when we signed up with our wedding photographer, we were contractually entitled to every single digital image taken on our special day. The catch was that only a year after the wedding could we actually lay our hands on those precious images. That way, if we wanted to preempt the photographer by printing a million expensive blow-ups ourselves, weíd just have to wait long enough so that we couldnít give two shits about the wedding photos anymore. Enlargements? Who cares about enlargements?! That was, like, a billion years ago!
The six CDs of images, however, brought back the memory of a particularly amusing story, and it wasnít that of shoving our faces in the cake. The morning of the wedding, you see, the photographer was present in my bedroom with myself and my bridesmaids and my mother and the entire starting line-up of the New England Patriots at the moment that I changed into my wedding dress. There was a bit of nudity involved. But that was okay with me. I was about to lose my virginity, after all, and I didnít mind sharing the love with those present.*
Anyway, the week after the wedding I got an email from the photographer that most of the wedding pics were available on a password-protected website for my perusal. I was thrilled! I immediately emailed the URL and the password to everyone: my parents, Danís parents, my grandparent, the New England PatriotsÖ You know, everyone that mattered! A few minutes later Dan called me at work. ìAre you sure youíre okay with everyone seeing those pictures of your breasts?î WHAT??? EXCUSE ME????? I rushed to the site, and to my chagrin Dan was correct (not the last time in our marriage). The picture of my bridesmaids holding out my dress, me stepping into it, breasts hanging down like two weighty versions of Foucaultís pendulums, waving freely while blissfully secured to the top of the universe.
Needless to say, I was a bit perturbed. I phoned the photographer IMMEDIATELY and ordered him to remove image number sixty, innocently titled image number sixty, from his web album. ìPeople always get angry when I DONíT include all the photos,î he protested. Whatever buddy. I donít know what kind of Mormon weddings you shoot over there at the Tabernacle, but in my family we donít like to share like that.
Anyway, this weekend I got a chance to see the infamous photo close-up and in a heart-rate-secure environment. After reading way too much of thesuperficial.com, I simply could not resist the following treatment. I created the star-shaped pasties, and when Dan got home from doing ACTUAL WORK he did the pixelization. I have included the photo here so that all can note my rock-hard six-pack which I will never again see unless I stop eating altogether, and also my devil-may-care attitude regarding a million hands stretched towards my naked body. Nothing I havenít done before in this bedroom, Iím thinking.** Enjoy.
*j/k you guys! I donít want people thinking that I actually saved myself for marriage!!!
**j/k again!!! I may be a pre-marital sinner but Iím no swinger, folks!!!