This isn’t exactly a favorite moment but it’s a continuation in the wedding cup size saga, so I thought I should include it.
Recap: Bought beautiful sleek wedding dress and had first fitting. Exercised like crazy to look good in sleek dress and went second fitting. The bust of the dress seemed to have ballooned – the only place, apparently, that I had lost any weight.
As fate would have it, the day before we flew to Austin I stopped by the neighborhood boutique to show the owner the amazing necklace her dad (the neighborhood jeweler) had made for me. We chitchatted and I told her about the ironic turn in events of my cup size. She grabbed a little pink box off the counter and handed me the miracle of plastic boobs. “Here, try these. They’re even grope tested!” she said.
So those were packed in the suitcase along with everything else. And as I dressed for the wedding I slipped them in my dress (where my previous larger boobs used to be) and marveled at myself in the mirror. For the first time in my life I had cleavage. I wanted to keep standing in front of the mirror groping my own amazing new boobs, but somebody was saying something about taking pictures and I had to go.
The plastic contraptions served me well all through the pre-wedding photos, the ceremony, the first dance, and the dinner. All until I took a moment to slip outside with John. When we came back inside we were whisked to the stage for toasts and then off to cut the cake and greet the guests. As we walked back toward the dance floor my hand brushed waist where I felt the unmistakable bulge of a very grope-able plastic boob.
I ran to the back of the room grabbing the photographer on my way to act as my shield. I reached inside, readjusted, restored the cleavage and asked, “Was that there while you photographed the cake and toasts?” “I don’t know. I guess we’ll find out,” she said wide-eyed.
The pictures will be available on September 25th.