Warning: What you read in this post may include vom-inducing gushiness and shameless, in your face, lovey-doveyness. If you have a weak stomach for this avert your eyes. You've been warned.
Today is my anniversary. Seven years married to this Hottie. Twelve together. How time flies when you're having fun.. good, bad, ugly, we have them all. I wouldn't trade a second of it...
We were married in flip flops in a Las Vegas chapel. Him in his new button up and me in $99 of David Bridals finest. The day of our wedding it rained, my hair person failed to show up, and I lost too much weight to fit properly in the dress (boy I wish I had that problem now!)... yet none of that mattered. Nothing phased me on this day, because I knew I would get to marry this guy...
I felt just plain lucky. Thats the simplest way I can put it. I have sonnets and love songs and odes playing in my head. I could write the longest of poems about our life together.. but at the end of the day it all comes down to how lucky I feel. Lucky to have found my perfect match. My best friend. My support. My love. Never in my wildest dreams would I have thought I'd have a husband that is so wonderfully my counterpart.... I freak out and he's chill. I sing to every single song on the radio (complete with car-dancing choreography) (yes, I'm that person), and he smiles.. I roller skate and he takes over with the kids. .. he is my everything, and has my heart forever.
Babe, I'd marry you a thousand times over and it still wouldn't feel possible how unbelievably lucky I turned out to be. Thank you for being such an amazing husband. I love the life we've built together... I hope I show you every single day how much you mean to me. Happy anniversary, Hottie. I love you.