I was one of those little girls who wanted to be in love since I saw my first movie musical. I couldn't wait for the day my big, strong, romantic love would take me in his arms and profess (hopefully through song) his deep feelings for me.
My mom got married when she was about 22, so I figured that I would follow in her footsteps. Although my parents met in high school, I didn't think I would find my One True Love during my years in public high school. Maybe people matured faster during the years my parents' grew up. Maybe not. In any case, I thought that I would at least have the chance to practice interacting with boys when I became a teenager by going out on dates.
When that didn't really happen (my mom had to find me a date to my Junior Prom, so sparse was the dating pool for me), I figured I'd meet my One True Love when I went to college. Since I was planning on getting married in my early 20s, I'd probably meet him during my first couple of semesters.
Or not.
Don't get me wrong, my life has been a fantastic journey, and I wouldn't trade any of it. But my "goal age" to be married came and went, and that man I'd dreamed of since I was a little girl was no where to be found.
Until about two and a half years ago.
I'm now a big believer in the saying that love comes along when you stop looking for it. Well, I don't know if I would say that I stopped looking for it altogether because there was always the hope that I'd be lucky to find someone to share my life with - hopefully sooner rather than later - I just wasn't looking for it very proactively. Especially not at work. I'd always said that I would never date a co-worker, but there was something about Matt that made me struggle with that statement for a year and a half before finally realizing that I wasn't
just dating a co-worker - I was dating a dear friend and one of the best men I'd ever known. From our first interactions together, through the early months of our friendship, I knew that Matt was someone special. He was unlike any other guys I'd met before - he was the first guy I felt that I could be myself with, and he liked and accepted who I was at face value.
When we finally started dating almost a year ago, it wasn't long before I realized that he was The Real Deal - the kind of man I'd been hoping and looking for since I was little. He was even
better than the man I'd imagined for myself. He was not just my best friend, my biggest supporter, and most generous partner, but my greatest love. With him, life was just
better.
Now my left hand wears the family heirloom that has been passed down to him. I may have given my heart to him long ago, but now the whole world can see that my heart belongs to him by the sparkler on my finger.
As we prepare for our life together and our wedding, our plans include the unique (Muppets wedding decorations), to the usual. A few weeks ago, we had the expected engagement photo shoot. For days and days I mulled over what to wear, scouring my closet, Google and Pinterest for ideas that would convey the mood I wanted while hiding my physical flaws. I couldn't wait until we got the proofs from the shoot - I hoped they'd look like the gorgeous shots I'd seen online of friends and strangers.
But picture after picture I found something wrong.
Ohmigosh, my butt is huge in that one. Why didn't I hide my thunder thighs? Ugh, that shot shows my double chin. Hello, sausage arms. Why didn't I diet for months before? Couldn't I have made time to get a haircut?
I felt like the pictures were something I'd looked forward to for so long, and I'd ruined most of them by.....well, by being visibly
myself.
I was ready to go bed, depressed by the lack of pictures that I deemed "fit for display." And then it dawned on me: I was robbing myself of these photographs that documented the love between me and my fiance. So what if I didn't look like a supermodel? I look at these pictures and I see a couple that loves being together. I see two people who have had their trials and struggles, but have found someone who makes the good times twice as good and the bad times half as bad. I see a man who adores me as I am - "thunder-esque thighs" and all. I see a girl who is deeply in love with her very best friend. The trust and understanding and acceptance that exists between us may not be visible, and they may not be the type of perfect looking pictures that people share online. But they're
us. And years from now, maybe I'll still notice my un-supermodel figure, but I hope that what I'll focus on in these pictures is the dream come true of two best friends in love with one another.
