Weddingbee Blog

WHERE WE HAD LEFT OFF:

• Wedding schedule was thrown off by late makeup appointments
• I came home to find that all of our bouquets were dead, after our florist put them into the freezer instead of the fridge!
• Bridal portraits began, I began to doubt my choice in photographer

NOTE: As usual, my recap photos are from a variety of sources (father, family, friends, florist, me, and some from the “photographer”). All post-processing has been done by me with each individual’s consent and permission. You can see an example of a “before” picture here.

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Gingerly stepping over the pre-wedding debris littering the stairway and every floor, we picked our way downstairs. Already doubting the skill of my photographer (he was chosen, long-distance, on the recommendation of a friend at the very beginning of my engagement when I didn’t know any better), I selected the living room and asked my bridesmaids to open all of the blinds and curtains on the lower floor. Light is SO important to photography; I knew that if I was going to have a chance of saving the photos after the wedding, I was going to have to combat the increasing gloom outside first. I asked our ’photographer’ if we could do some of the getting ready shots that I had suggested in previous emails (complete with sample photographs). He looked at me blankly. Someone hadn’t done his homework. I asked him to take some photos of my bridesmaids doing up the buttons on my dress, and he obliged, peppering his workflow patter with sexually harassing comments.

After the wedding, when confronted about his behaviour on the wedding day, he justified his actions by saying that he “conducted [himself] the same way at every wedding”…. :S

I was given a couple of other photos of my bridesmaids and me, but unfortunately, it’s very hard to correct shocked and stricken faces. Bulging forehead veins, yes, but “OMG did he just ask to see that particular part of my anatomy?!” faces, are not so easy.

I have to hand it to my bridal party, though. They did an admirable job of holding up under the circumstances…

…so lovely!

I don’t have any pictures of my father seeing me for the first time. I’m not sure if our ’photographer’ had wandered off, or was just slacking off, but that moment is one that I will always remember. My father had gone to his room to change into his tuxedo, came out, and had been looking down at me from the top of the stairs. Feeling his loving gaze, I looked up, and there was my stalwart, gruffily kind of dad, smiling down at me with tears streaming down his face. I stood there, swishing my skirts around like Cinderella, beaming up at him with my own tear-bright eyes.

I also don’t have any pictures of my getting ready paraphernalia. Luckily I took many pictures of my dress and accessories before the wedding for my posts!

I had a portrait taken with my mother, who tried to muster up a brave smile after the “photographer” accused her of being a “lesbian” - because she held and patted my hand. I was already zoning out, my camera-ready-but-very-fake-smile frozen on my face, so I was the only one in the room who didn’t hear him, and didn’t find out until a conversation with my tearful mother after the honeymoon. (NOTE: She doesn’t take offense with “being” a lesbian, rather, that the photographer used it as an insult and a derogatory term.) I had been so excited to get ready with my friends and family. The dead flowers had been stressful, for sure, but I’m certain that I would have had a different experience overall had our ’photographer’ not been so aggressively anti-Shortcake-wedding. It’s hard to laugh and bond with your bridesmaids when all of you are concentrating so hard on “grin[ning] and bear[ing]” the situation!

I still don’t know why our “photographer” seemed to hate us so much, but I do know why the tension in the air visibly abated when he packed up his gear to head to the church.

Someone pour some stiff drinks, quick!