This is not a picture from our wedding, but it might as well be. It’s a bit amusing to look at those old photos, our younger selves unable to even plaster a frozen smile on our faces for the camera. Hubby’s eyes are dark and he’s looking at me like, well this is going to be hellish. I look like the judge just gave me 20 years to life.
Part of the blame for those photos comes from the huge party we had the night
before. Some sort of subliminal suicide attempt, I suspect. I know I woke up on
my wedding day wondering if I was still alive, slightly disappointed when I
discovered I was.
Like everything else in my life, I seem to have managed to do marriage backwards. We didn’t have a honeymoon because back then we didn’t really even like each other. Love yes, but like, not so much. We have honeymooned since, several times. And today, everyday is a bit like a honeymoon.
When I look back, all I can think of is my husband must have been insane. Not only was I an outspoken feminist, I had bit of contempt for men in general and I was not very gentle about it. Some of my family and friends were so disappointed that I had “sold out” they actually boycotted the wedding. Not only was it inside a church, I was a marrying a man. Double sell out.
Selling out was the best thing that ever happened to me. It’s been such a privilege
to have been married to this man, such an honor to have been his wife all these years.