Like every red-blooded girl, I dream of the day when I will creep into an upside-down cupcake and get on one of those flying surfboards that the Backstreet Boys use to make a splashy entrance at their concerts and fly over the heads of my nearest and dearest while pyrotechnics explode uncomfortably close to the pastor. It is the first thing I think of in the morning and the last thing I text my boyfriend at night. WHAT? But I feel very strongly about wedding photos, so here is a NON-NEGOTIABLE list of photos that won’t be taken at my wedding.
NO cutesy couples shoe pictures. Should Hugh Jackman and/or my future husband show up in color-coordinated plaid hipster socks or Converse, the wedding will be called off immediately.
NO shots of our rings nestled in a dewy rose.
NO snapshot of the shank tied to my thigh with a yard of borrowed blue ribbon.
NO photos of the bridesmaids from the side or the back (keep them looking as 3D as possible at all times, thanks.)
If I am marrying someone other than Hugh Jackman, there will be NO closeups of Hugh’s face as I walk down the aisle. His look of heartbreak would absolutely kill me.
NO jumping group shots. This is not High School Musical.
NO “candid” photos of me looking out of the window, applying lipstick in front of an old-fashioned mirror, shaving my upper lip, etc. I will be aware of the camera AT ALL TIMES.
NO “stolen moments of romance” between the bride and groom will be photographed. Nothing is less hip than inauthenticity. I mean, yeah, I’m happy to be Mrs. Jackman blah blah BLAH but I don’t need the paparazzi instructing me to “lean your head back a little bit farther – now Hugh, look down at her with an expression of deep joy on your face – that looks a bit stiff, maybe you should try smiling – ok, Tori, gently place one earlobe on this convenient hyacinth – CUE THE WHITE DOVES – great, great, now hold that!”
NO photos of people smiling.
NO photos of random little kids dancing. All children will be busy serving aperitifs.
NO photos of Howard the Male Dancer, because he is NOT invited even though I KNOW he’ll show up.
NO shots of the time machine required to transport me back to the 1920s and marry F. Scott Fitzgerald before Zelda gets to him.
NO photos of me running through a shower of white rice. That’s basically a gauntlet*, and it is a HORRIFYING concept.
NO shots of old people having a great time. I catered a wedding once, and an old man tried to “dance” (read: grope) me after demanding I pour him another glass of wine. I refuse to let that happen again.
NO closeups of the look of terror on my face every time I have flashbacks to my first proposal.
NO pictures of me if I am having a bad hair day.
*I couldn’t remember what a gauntlet was called, so I Googled “run down a line of indians with tomahawks” and I got it! HAHA! Thanks Google!