I have officially entered into "my wedding is less than two weeks away" mode, which everyone always warns you is a little stressful. I was expecting a few hiccups, but was still surprised when my caterer tried to quit on me over the weekend, and my photobooth photographer announced that he had to have emergency foot surgery this week. Silly me for thinking that the most I was going to have to endure was a misplaced pin on my dress by the tailor or the bakery calling to say that they only have regular chocolate frosting for the cupcakes instead of double-dark chocolate.
(This is the x-ray of his foot that the photographer sent to me, like a doctor's note, explaining why he won't be able to man our photobooth.)
Still, of all the minor emergencies that I have been dealing, with, I think one of the most annoying is a tacky set of tan lines that I got two weeks ago. I haven't really seen the sun all summer long, which means I'm already unusually pale, and may have gotten a little lazy about my normal daily sunscreen application. The sun came out for a whole 30 minutes the other day, and it managed to give me a ridiculous tan line on my ankles where my capris cut off and on my arms where my sleeve hit. Really? Tacky, terrible tan lines, two weeks before I have to take all sorts of photos of myself looking pretty?
I'm sure I'll figure something out, but hopefully my next post won't be me bemoaning the fact that using self-tanner for the first time has left my palms orange and my ankles streaked.