Photographer Part 3

The previous two parts of the story being thus concluded, it is now
time to proceed to the final installment of the Ellen Marie saga.

"If that's what signing the contract means, I'd rather wear diapers!"

Ok. So, after seeing EM's portrait room and studio, we then mosied
into her living room, where she has a HUGE image of Michelangelo's
creation that is more than life-size.

We sit down on her comfortable sofas: EM and Mrs. Barber on the couch
and me on the sofa across from both of them.

"Now that I've done all the talking, I want to be quiet and hear from
you!"

I said, "Well your work is certainly beautiful" and apparently that
was EM's definition of "hearing from me" because then she rattled on
for another while to do some more of her own talking.

She offered some good pointers on choosing photographers, things to
look for, questions to ask, etc. Advice that was all very helpful.

Suddenly, though, it got a little too interactive.

"I don't know how women getting married can possibly have men as
photographers. I mean, really, in posing there has to be a lot of
touching and repositioning in order to get the right shot."

Unbeknownst to me, I must have had a look on my face that
communicated, "Ellen Marie, I don't believe you. Please demonstrate
what you mean."

Because that's what she did. She got out of her spot on the sofa, and
to Mrs. Barber's and my amazement came over to where I was sitting and
grabbed my leg, and my hand and started fussing with me as if we were
in a photoshoot where I needed to be repositioned.

"you see? I have to really do a lot of touching, and I just don't
think a lot of girls are comfortable with male photographers doing
that."

Apparently, I still had the look on my face that communicated, "Ellen
Marie, you are pulling my leg (well, of course I had THAT look on my
face because that's what she did..but anyway)...convince me more that
photographers have to touch their subjects in awkward places!"

So, Ellen Marie, said, "you know, I'm often the one to tell girls that
the dress needs to be respositioned because certain body parts are
hanging out of the top."  Because she's convinced that I'm totally
clueless and coulnd't possibly have deduced what part of the anatomy
she was referring to, she had to show me....

thanks for the clarification. Now kindly get your hands off me.

The look on Mrs. Barber's face was becoming more and more priceless.
She had the luxury of not being in EM's line of sight, so she could
make facial expressions that showed the craziness of what was going
on. I, on the other hand, had to be a little more discreet. But soon,
I would get my chance...

The conversation rattled on along the same lines of the close
proximity in which wedding photographers must find themselves in
relation to their subjects and meandered (eventually making her point)
into how she began in wedding photography business.

She heard about this beautiful couple that was struggling financially,
so she got into her car, drove for a while and crashed this couple's
party offering free photography for the opportunity to practice.

The girl was about to get out of the car to go to the Church, and
there EM was standing, camera in hand, offering to take pictures.

They go to the Church and get her ready, EM is taking all sorts of
pictures, and then it's close to time that they have to begin the
ceremony.

But,uh-oh, the bride needs to go to the restroom.

But, uh-oh! All the bridal party, in a rush to get to the Church
abandoned her and the only person left there was EM with all her
equipment.

Well, this girl's dress was huge and flowing! "This big around!!" EM
says as she bows her arms out dramatically around her waist.

But what was I supposed to do? I had all my equipment, everyone was
gone, and somehow this girl needs help going to the bathroom!!

Now, you would have thought I would learn by now to clear the
expression off my face that says, "I don't understand! Please use me
as a live model to show me what you mean!!"

Because as I was caught up in the drama of the story, secretly begging
her to stop, she grabbed my hand, stood me up and demonstrated how she
bent this bride over, got the dress over her head and enabled her to
go to the bathroom!

While I was bending over (oh gosh, writing this phrase shames me as I
allowed this to happen!) I was facing Mrs. Barber, and I can only
imagine if the look on face only half captured the incredulity of how
I felt....the expression I felt myself making was "This is ridiculous-
ness incarnate! She's a nut!"

I then was allowed to return to my chair after she had sufficiently re-
enacted the story of how she helped this girl who she just met go to
the bathroom.

She continued on the drama of the story as she described herself
picking up all her equipment which she had to put down, throw the
dress back down over to return it to its previous state of buffont and
rush out the door to go to the Church.

"so that's why I can't see men being wedding photographers. Could a
man have done that?"

I didn't even know what to say. No response adequately captures how I
felt at that time.  Raised eyebrows and an uncomfortable, "wow" was
all I could utter.

While having EM help me go to the bathroom might be an improvement on
Herman Munster, the first photographer we checked out... well...I just
don't know how to end this sentence normally....

I would rather wear diapers!!!