We found two matching shells on the beach. Our 'married shells'. The tanned, muscly one resembles Forrest, and the white and weedy one is me, to a tee :)
As of last Thursday, I'm embracing my new status as the wife.
I powered through the giggles (an affliction of mine) to say 'I do' at the appropriate moment and landed one on my new husband's lips with all the grace (not much) and hilarity (plenty) that befits my usual manner. If there wasn't a video as evidence of the event, I'd probably still be asking whether it really did happen.
I should probably feel 'different', but this is simply not the case. I suppose I had already felt secure. I was already making lunches with good wifely enthusiasm ("mystery sandwiches' tomorrow, Dear?'). Forrest and I already bickered like husband and wife. Plus, married or not I will always forget to squeeze the toothpaste from the end of the tube. Nothing has changed.
The wedding was rushed for the sake of my visa requirements, so after my low expectation of the thing, I was ridiculously tickled by the loveliness of it, really. Who knew we would have the sweetest little lady in the whole of Alabama to conduct the ceremony, and who knew there would be surprise wedding cake, and a photographer, celebrations and a weekend at the beach with two of our nearest and dearest. The manta rays even came to play. My memory museum just opened a new archive.