On this day in 1989, I made Paul the happiest luckiest groom.
And yeah, I guess I should have found a photo of the two of us together, but I like seeing photos of me when I actually had a waist. Just to prove it was so. Besides, it was the first photo I found. Which just happened to be of me.
Me. Me. Me.
Everyone likes seeing the bride better, anyway.
Just to explain, the thing on my head? That's not a big mushroom, or an alien ship. That's poofy veil stuff. In the 80s, hooo weee! That was stylin'.
And on my back? A big, honkin' bow.What the hell was I thinking? Nothing like saying, hey, look how big this makes my ass look! 'Cause it didn't look quite big enough without this ginormous piece of satin clinging to it, sticking out in all directions.
Those things on my upper arms aren't half-deflated balloons, either. They're fancy pants poofy sleeves with inset lace stuff.
Unlike most brides, I bought my gown off the rack, on sale. I didn't peruse a hundred bride's magazines, though my parents would have bought me anything I wanted to advance the cause of grandchildren. But no, not me. I saw mine on the rack and that was it. It fit almost perfectly, requiring minimal alterations.
Back in those days I was much lower maintenance.
Memo to Paul: SUCKER!
And so it goes.