Monday, October 1, 2012

busta says it best


It’s hard to believe that one year ago today my husband and I were married in one of the most charming shotgun weddings I’ve seen to date.  We opted for close friends and family and a ceremony on board a yacht in the middle of a lake in Branson, Missouri (this ensured that neither of us could make a run for it without literally jumping ship.) My husband will tell you that it was the second best day of his life, the first being the day our son was born (cue awes); while I have a very different perspective.  I was five and a half months pregnant, sober and wearing a dress that made me look the Michelin tire man (you know the one, the character that looks like he was constructed solely of marshmallows and spit.) Because being as big as the yacht itself isn’t bad enough, let’s add a sinus infection and a double ear infection just for shits. I would rather hurl myself in front of a bus carrying nuclear weapons and covered in poison then repeat that day. Let’s just be clear; I hated my wedding, I love my husband.

This is obvious when I tell you I was very adamant about selecting our own vows.  Not writing them, God no. Mine would’ve echoed this blog and my husband probably would’ve said something about my “phat ass.”  I wasn’t willing to take that risk but I did want something beyond that “lawfully wedded” business.  And it’s a good fucking thing I did because part of the full service wedding package was that they provided a local officiate and check out the prize we got:


Ready for her close up:


Okay so she was incredibly sweet but how do you trust a woman in a white cowboy hat and excessive rouge to preside over something as sacred as your wedding vows?  You don’t, you let her speak her piece and then send her back to the wax museum she was on loan from.

So how does a couple celebrate 365 days together?  Drink a year-old bottle of Missouri wine that we received as a wedding present out of a travel coffee mug and bump and grind like we're auditioning for a role in a rap video till 1am, that's how.   We were so inebriated that each time I tried to "drop it like it's hot" I would just sit down on the bar floor and my husband spent a lot of time staring at the ground so he wouldn't fall over.  Basically, it was a fairly accurate reenactment of our first few years as a couple.   


Because of this, I feel as though only one song is totally expressive of our love and adoration for each other. Here's to you lover, cause I'm your chick, and I'm the shit.


-

No comments:

Post a Comment