You’ve seen 27 Dresses, right?
This year is my very own 27 Dresses. (Only, my hair isn’t as sexy as Katherine Heigl’s and so far James Marsden hasn’t come to sweep me off my feet.)
This year I was invited to a record-breaking 13 weddings. THIRTEEN. And these aren’t just acquaintances, these are good friends all getting married in the same year. Granted, I did photograph one of the weddings, but I would have been in attendance anyway.
Thirteen sets of vows.
Thirteen awkward seating arrangements and even more awkward dance moves.
Thirteen bouquets to dodge.
Thirteen daydreams of someday marrying in a courthouse in jeans with a fresh arm tattoo.
Yes, you read that right.
After thirteen weddings I’ve decided I don’t care for cake, I don’t think I’d like a corset and I’m a bad dancer.
Here’s what I’ve decided about for my future wedding (should the momentous occasion ever actually happen to Single Sarah): There will be me. There will be a groom.
The rest is just icing on the cake. Wait, I don’t like cake.
Side note: I want to get married barefoot. Would a courthouse let you be barefoot? Vegas probably would.