But FIRST....lemme take a selfie!

Okay. Before reading this post, please first click on this link and read this:




Engagement Ring Selfies




Now. May I please be the first to say that I did, indeed, take a "selfie" of my hand after becoming engaged. In fact, I took about a million. Because I was ecstatic, and wanted to capture the moment, and of course the beautiful ring. Now granted, we didn't post anything in ANY form of social media until a few days after our engagement. First, we wanted to make sure we called and spoke in person with as many close friends and family as humanly possible, so that our engagement would not simply be something that came across their newsfeed. But this article that you just read I can only say one thing to: REALLY!? WTH!?




Do women really, truly do this? Do people get botox in their hands, or "de-vein" their hands before posting their ring photos? Are people really that insane? This article, as bizarre as it is, led me to think about and tell you the story of my "hand prep" for my "engagement ring selfie".


So. A few days before he popped the big question, he was trying to come up with a way to both A)get me out of the house for a few hours so he could finalize his proposal video and B) find a way to have me get a nice manicure done so that my hands would indeed look pretty for that iconic photo moment. But I, in true Micha fashion, had to be difficult as hell and ruin all of the above. I was in the mood to simply chill at home that day and try to catch up on my Christmas wrapping. Finally, he texted my sister Leslie and was like, "Can you please talk your stubborn sister into leaving this house for a few hours?!" So she texted me and asked to take me to get a manicure as one of my Christmas presents, and I immediately perked up and said yes, and off we went.


Fast forward to our engagement day, a few days later. My nails were perfectly painted a glorious shade of Christmas red, with a hint of sparkle. My hands were lotioned and smoothed and every last hang nail was gone. So I bet Andrew was thinking "Yes!! I'm the man! She'll be so glad!!". Well, the day of our engagement, we went to have a snack at Starbucks before our Christmas Eve service downtown. One of my favorite snacks at Starbucks is their Everything Bagel, toasted, with cream cheese. So we each order a bagel and cozy up in big leather chairs  and relax. I pull out my butter knife, wrapped in plastic, and I couldn't get it open. Ruh-roh!


I yanked, I pulled, I used my teeth - that thing was forever sealed inside a plastic wrapper jail for life. Ahhh, but no - FINALLY!  I rrrrrripped open that plastic. And jammed the butter knife into my.....RING FINGER. Well, Andrew looked at me in utter horror as I began to bleed everywhere. I mean, for a butter knife this thing packed a punch. And it HURT. It cut me right on my knuckle, right in that perfect ouch spot. So every time I bent my finger it would bleed again. Again, Andrew looked at me in pure horror. I of course, at the time, had NO idea that he was proposing to me in less than a few hours and that there would be a huge diamond on that hand all ready for it's premier selfie.


I finally got it to stop bleeding, and managed to eat my bagel with my other hand. I complained about that damn butter knife cut forever. Then that night he popped the question. We hugged and cried and were so in love, and then he went to place the ring on my finger. And the cut had caused a nice big bloody scab to appear. And then, it finally hit me - I CUT MYSELF WITH A PLASTIC BUTTER KNIFE ON MY ENGAGEMENT HAND ON MY PROPOSAL DAY!!!!!!!!!


I was so sad. I suddenly realized he had sent me out for the perfect manicure, I had the perfect nails, I had the perfect ring. And I ruined it all for a damn bagel.


I of course tried taking a million pictures of the ring, and could never quite get a quality pic with my phone (imagine that...). But in every shot, I tried to angle my hand perfectly so that damn scab didn't show. I would contort my fingers in any way I could, and finally I stuck some makeup over it. Just to make that hand look pretty in my engagement selfie.


We still, to this day, re-tell that story and end up laughing to the point of tears about my plastic butter knife attack. Its actually way funnier from HIS point of view, as he describes that moment of "pure horror" after I cut myself and started to bleed. It is such a funny memory though, I wouldn't change it for the world. It wouldn't be me if that hadn't happened! And after reading this article today, it really put things in perspective. I would never have botox, or plastic surgery to alter my hand for my ring selfie. Even if I didn't something crazy like cut myself with a plastic knife hours before said selfie was taken. But a bitch will get some Maybelline and slap it on a finger, mmmmmK?!

Something About Mary

“Yes, this is Montana calling from Belle Bridal for Micha. I just have your dress order here and it came back with some questions from the designer, who thinks it was a double order. Can you please give me a call at….”

 

Ladies.  This is generally NOT the message you want to hear from the bridal store two weeks after your dream dress was ordered. I had wanted to chat with them anyway about some finer details of the dress – i.e. who the designer even IS because in all my haste I just forgot to ask! Ha – so upon hearing this message, I immediately hit “call back” and ran to my room so Andrew couldn’t hear me discuss the gown. They answered on the first ring and it went somewhat like this:

Montana was all, “Soooo the designer emailed me and wanted to just double check on some things….what size did you order again?”

(In my head: “OH HELL TO THE NAW Y’ALL DID NOT MESS UP MY DREAM DRESS ORDER!!!! A bitch done tried on a gown and it was perfect and it was supposed to be ordered two weeks ago and a bitch done TOLD ME it would be here in exactly 4 months, and now y’all don’t know my SIZE?!”)

Outloud: *insert politely telling her my dress size in my sweet Southern accent* Remember? I tried it on, and even though it was one size too large, it actually fit really well and I was comfortable in it, so we went ahead and ordered it in that size.

Montana….”Oh. Yes. Absolutely! That’s what I thought. I think the designer was just confused for a moment.  *long pause*………………..And don’t worry at ALL! Your dress has been ordered and in the right size and EVERYTHING is PERFECT!!!

(In my head: “OH HELL TO THE SECOND NAW YOU DID NOT just speak to me in a Minnie Mouse voice in a weak ass attempt to make me believe my dress was ordered and all is well. Ima cut anyone who calls me in September and tells me my dress is late.)

Outloud: Oh my, okay, thank goodness! So relieved.

(In my head: And you better be relieved I’m not in my car on the way to Cincy right NOW. )

Outloud: Well, while I have you sweetie, could you please tell me the designer’s name one more time? I’d like to look the gown up online and see some detailed, zoomed in pictures of it. I didn’t take any photos on my phone because  I don’t want my fiancé to see it.

Montana…”Oh. Okay. Well, the designer is Mary.”

Me: Mary what?

Montana: Mary. Just Mary.

(In my head: Now are you just saying that because you forgot? Or is it really Mary? Because you done forgot what SIZE I wear. How do I know Mary’s last name isn’t Stephanopulous or something and you just can’t remember it?)

Outloud: Oh, how fun! Just Mary. Does she have a website?

Montana: Yes! Of course.

*long pause*

Me: Okay. Do you know what that website might be?

Montana: Yes. I’m googling it right now. Just oooooone second.

(In my head: Girrrrrrrrrl. You better hope that website is the hardest website address in the world because you should know it, or at least give me an idea. So unless that address is ilovemarywithoutalastnamewhomakesdressesandorderstheminthewrongsize.com, then ima need you to pick up the pace here.)

Outloud: Okay, great!

*long pause*

Montana: Ah, here it is! Marysbridal.com

(In my head: Now WHAT did I just say?!)

Outloud: Great, thanks! I’ll check it out. Do you know the style number?

*long pause*

Montana: No…but if you go to the website and go through all the photos you should be able to find your dress.

(In my head: Okay. I am taking OFF my weave and my Lee press-on nails and my URRings, and this is now real…)

Outloud: Perfect! Thanks so much! Have a great night!

Click.

 

In case you’re wondering, I did find my gown on the website. And it only took 30 minutes. But it was totes worth it. J