*Insert Sigh of Relief Here*

Earlier this week, Trout told me that his stepmother was going to be sending me a picture from Chad’s wedding that she found amusing. Upon hearing the words “amusing” and “picture” in the same sentence that included me, a slight wave of panic came over me.

I used to be horrifically un-photogenic, I took terrible pictures. There is a school picture that I hope to the powers that be, it doesn’t come back to kick me in the ass someday; I threw away all of my copies, but it has been eternally documented in my high school yearbook (but thankfully not my senior edition). My situation improved drastically after summer jobs in the customer service fields (you learn quickly how to turn on a genuine looking smile on a moment’s notice) and from the hundreds of pictures taken at Jenn and Phil’s wedding almost three years ago. Of course I still take some pretty bad pictures, but the frequency has decreased many times over.

Trout assured me, from what he knew of the picture, that I would also find it amusing. However, when I think about the wedding reception (where I was assuming the picture was taken), and the reasons why an amusing picture would have been taken, I realize I was much more inebriated than I had ever planned on being. All worst case scenarios ran through my head: was my dress tucked into my underwear? Toilet paper stuck to the bottom of my shoes? Horrible dance moves? Food unknowingly stuck to my face? In my teeth? Despite Trout’s best reassurances, I was expecting the worst.

When the envelope arrived in the mail yesterday, I was hesitant to actually open it. I thought about waiting until I talked to Trout to see if I could get him to tell me what it was before I opened the envelope. Eventually I cowboyed up and opened it. Upon seeing the picture I realized it was nothing like I feared. The picture was of the group of us “single” women waiting to catch the bride’s bouquet. I was standing next to Sheena, Trout’s cousin’s Irish girlfriend, and on the other side of me is a group of younger girls, (and by younger I mean like closer to flower girl age than my age). Sheena’s covering her mouth trying to stifle a laugh while I’m leaned slightly towards her, no doubt muttering some sarcastic, snarky comment about being forced to participate in the toss, which (from what I can recall) dealt with hoping that no one expected us to trample the 10 year olds next to us to grab the chance to get married next. Whether or not Sheena is laughing at my comments, it’s apparent neither one of us wanted to be standing up there. Sheena took the high road and found it amusing, I just look bitter. It really is an amusing picture.

Trout’s stepmom included a funny little note about “Desperate Brides” instead of “Desperate Housewives,” both of which I will never be, but I was so relieved I was neither flashing the wedding guests or demonstrating highly inappropriate table manners that the picture and note are now hanging on my fridge. Crisis averted.