Engagement Photos

We did our engagement photos today. I was quite excited and looking forward to it, and I had been thinking about different shots and whatnot... I really did have to face up to the fact that I don't know what I'm doing when it comes to photographing people. Not my area of expertise. However, the pictures were cute in my head, so I figured I could do it. I mean, if you can visualize it, you can create it, right? ;)

C had agreed to go with me on the photo jaunt this weekend, and last night as they were figuring out when to reconvene for game night tonight, I reminded him about the photos. He totally prioritized our activity and made everyone else wait! I felt very special :)

However, as the time drew nearer, I found myself filling with apprehension, even dread. By the time we climbed into his truck, I was about ready to cry. I told him I was apprehensive, and he spent the ride over to the park talking me through/out of it.

I'm still fiddling with the why and the wherefore of the apprehension, but I think part of it is expectations. I don't know what I'm doing when it comes to portraits, but I have these images in my head that the wonderful wedding industry has placed there, the "standard", and I'm afraid of failing, afraid of not living up to the "standard" (which, really... doesn't actually mean anything. The standard, that is.)

Also, that same terror of "I don't want to waste C's time", or "I don't want to be pushing him into something he doesn't want" or "I don't want to make demands of him" or "I don't want to have him around if I can't do this or I do it badly".

He told me I was silly for being apprehensive about him, and that I should know by now that he actually wants to spend time with me. Hah. Yes. I should. But I'm still... scared of pushing too much and driving him away, I guess. Please don't leave me! I love you! See? I don't need anything, I'm totally self-contained, so no effort is required on your part and so you don't have to leave.

Abandonment complex, anyone?

Anyway, C busts that to pieces.

 (Also, and I quote, "It's just a picture. If it's not good, you take another one. If that one's not good, you take another. You have a digital camera! It's note even film! You'll be fine.")

He has a plan. When I'm being "silly", when I'm being apprehensive about things that I already know I shouldn't be apprehensive about, then he is going to bop me with the Squeaky Hammer of Refinement (to get rid of those false ideas). This, of course, is not to be confused with the Stick of Correction, which is reserved for people who are being stupid and need their ideas/course of actions changed, immediately.

By the time we hit the park, my apprehension had significantly decreased (due in large part to laughing over the naming process for the Squeaky Hammer), and as we got into it I ended up having a lot of fun. C was hamming it up for the camera, just as loose and comfortable as you can be. I was the stiff one! What a twist :)

Anyway, we got some good shots, and it was a really fun experience. It reminded me all over again why I'm marrying him. (On my walks at night, I walk around neighborhoods and look at the houses. It fills me with a giddy anticipation to know that C and I are joining our lives, and soon we'll live in a house and be a married couple and... just wow. It feels like this novel thing, like we're the only people who have ever done this before. I know it's not true, but it's still funny how it feels like we're the first people to ever be in love.)

As I was going through and editing the pics, there was a really funny sequence that I just have to share! (These are unedited, but still funny.)



In his defense... he was watching bugs while I worked with the camera.



To get him to smile a "real" smile (rather than a goofy grimace--hamming it up), I told him, "Imagine that you're at Ren Faire, buying another axe!" ...It worked.)



Another "raw" image, one that didn't make it on fb. He said something silly to me right before the shutter went off, so I was trying to figure out how to react.





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