The Life of a Serial Photo Addict, or She Who Loves Her Pants

Sue and Gideon's wedding allowed, for once in my life, the photohog in me to admit two things without any qualms:

One - that although it seems I am permanently stuck to the front of the camera lens, it really is the fact that my being bridesmaid (and only 'cause) that there were unending requests for photos. So much so to the point I remember being unable to think (apart from thinking I was unable to think, of course), other than autosmile on cue. So yes, I am proudly announcing that I am not (entirely) vain and narcissistic, and that - wonder of wonders! - the manymany photos of me are not *gasp* all my own engineering.

Two - that I have by far more photos of me, than that of the subjects of the night. And why? First, because they were completely hounded by everyone else to comply to endless photos so the rest of the bridal party weren't really with them much of the time (and I thought I was harrassed), and second, because I had to have in hand a bouquet in place of my trusty snapsnap to hound them with as well myself.

Of course, by the time I got to Joyce and Julius' wedding the next Saturday, I was back to my old tricks, though not quite fully having recovered my photomojo. It being one week apart may have had something to do with it. I mean, really, next I'll be comparing attending weddings to changing underwear, and by no means be dramatically exaggerating (the count is now 7 - and there are more to go). All I can say is, boy am I glad to be back in functional wear!

Photos to come. Naturally.