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Wedding Day

May 9, 2009
Shelley and Dane: 9 May 2009

Shelley and Dane: 9 May 2009

Today was my friend Shelley’s wedding day.

Today my feet hurt.

The two statements may seem unrelated, but they are actually very closely connected; after all, it was because of Shelley’s wedding that I had my feet smushed into a pair of very lovely but highly uncomfortable shoes for several many hours. At least they looked good, though–see? I think I have pretty cute feet, as far as feet go.

My all-too-costly French pedicure that will not last nearly long enough to be worthwhile.

My all-too-costly French pedicure that will not last nearly long enough to be worthwhile.

Despite my aching feet, Shelley and Dane were married without incident, and as soon as the [long] ceremony was over, I was able to slip out of my shoes and dress and into my jeans and flipflops, sling my camera around my neck, and assist my brother’s girlfriend Jaclyn with the photos, which is much more up my alley than flauntin’ around with a bouffant hair-do in a pretty dress and high heels. Since Jac’s pretty much family, just not official, I actually got a couple of photos of myself out of the deal–something that you photographers out there know never happens, since you’re always behind the camera. Here’s the dress, and there’s the jeans. Oh…and there’s the trace remnants of the black eye from the Volleyball Court Incident. Still. Three weeks (almost) later. I would have photoshopped it out, but that’s me. Battered and big-haired.



Holey Jeans.

Holey Jeans.

 I didn’t start this post, though, believe it or not, just to exhibit my wardrobe of the day. Witnessing Shelley’s wedding from start to finish, in all it’s myriad detail, reminded me of my own wedding day fourteen years ago, and how unconcerned with detail I was. It’s an almost comical side-by-side.


Compared to many of the weddings I’ve attended since my own, I had a distinct “I could care less–whatever yall think is fine with me” attitude toward just about everything. I borrowed a dress so I wouldn’t have to purchase and preserve one. I bought the “weddings for dummies” book and put it in the capable hands of my mother-in-law and mom and let them roll with it. When it came time to select the music for the ceremony, I remember telling my mother-in-law, a pianist, that Duane wanted something country and he liked Patsy Cline, so how about “Crazy,” or “I Fall to Pieces”? I’m snorting now to recall her horrified but gentle explanation that if you listened to the lyrics of those songs, they were “he left me and I’m obsessed and having suicidal tendencies…” (aka crying in my beer) songs. We went with Randy Travis instead, which suited me just fine.


I think this carefree attitude came from the fact that I was not a typical girlie girl growing up. I didn’t play “wedding day” and stuff like that, although you could find me with a Barbie every now and then. I had three brothers, though, and a neighborhood full of boys. I played football, and it wasn’t touch. I climbed trees. I played school with the mentally handicapped teenager next door. I waded in creeks and picked up critters. I got my hands dirty when I was a kid.


I consider myself blessed, therefore, to have had an army of volunteers concerned with detail so I did not need to worry my blond head about it. (Yes, you read right. I am a blond. We won’t discuss proof.) I was probably one of the few brides who actually got to enjoy her wedding. There were no nerves, no tears, no frantic, last-minute rushing around the week before. The only pressing thing I remember needing to do in those last few

weeks was get myself to various bridal showers. It was nice.


Youth is nice. I was twenty when I was married. Twenty seems like a million years ago some days, like today, and then others, it seems like nothing. I’m not sure I could be that carefree now, so willing and ready to relinquish control. Today, the person I am would visit fifteen websites and buy every wedding book on the shelf at Barnes and Noble before conducting the interview process for wedding planner.


And then she’d have her camera hooked around her neck during the ceremony, because there’s always that shot that the photographer’s gonna miss… 😉

2 Comments leave one →
  1. May 10, 2009 2:05 pm

    You know, the more I read about you, the more I am sure we would be great friends if we lived around the corner from each other. My wedding day was very similar to yours… I did my own hair, the same way I always did. I paid my mom (!) to make me a simple dress that was inexpensive. (wish I thought of the borrowing idea! Genius!) Anyway… enough about me. I have really enjoyed getting to know more about your life here. Thanks for sharing!

  2. hintonrae permalink*
    May 10, 2009 5:39 pm

    Not nearly enough about you, Gerb! I love your responses, and I am in complete and total agreement. Kindred spirits, as Anne would say. 😉

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