Back in May of 2010, our good friends got married out on their ranch, and B was one of the esteemed groomsmen. He's the one on the far left there, in case you couldn't find him. The groom is in the blue shirt. They're all looking at the REAL photographer for a picture...do you think the photographer told them all to do that with their thumbs in their pockets, or do you think they did that naturally? I'm putting my money on the latter.
The only thing that could improve this picture would be if Baby Boy there had his thumbs in HIS pockets.
Well, that, and if B was in it.
[waving] "Hi! I'm biased!"
Oh, there he is again!
With the thumbs again!
All the thumbs in pockets....!
I spent the entire wedding looking for places to sit down and sweat. I was six months pregnant, and while that wasn't nearly as big as my belly was going to get, it was the absolute pinnacle of Swollen Feet.
Man, some of my FLIP FLOPS didn't even fit. It was bad news bears, people. And kinda gross.
There was B, all spit-shined and pretty, standing with the other pretty people, shaking hands and smiling, and then whomever he was talking to would inevitably turn to me, despite my attempts to hide in my tent of a dress, and their smile would either start to slip or get bigger. Their facial expression said it all:
What happened here?
They were either offended or amused by my clown feet resting up on a chair or buried in the grass. I was officially a travelling circus.