This photo is from 2013. (So, this is not my wedding dress.) Justin and I were marching in Doo Dah, an annual Fourth of July parade in Columbus, Ohio, where anyone can participate.
If you couldn’t tell by the bandana, handcrafted undies and world title belt, we were Macho Man Randy Savage, who is one of Columbus’s favorite native sons, and his manager wrestler wife, Miss Elizabeth.
Justin bought a box of Slim Jims to throw out to the crowds like candy. (I was sure to move us several spots behind the vegan cheerleaders marching in the parade so as not to be rude. Like any self-respecting face wrestler manager would do.)
If you hadn’t watched Macho Man and Miss Elizabeth wrestle as a kid, the Slim Jims were really the only visual cue as to who we were dressed up as. We were relying heavily on Justin’s ability to imitate Macho Man’s growly, “OH YEAH.”
So, imagine our dismay when, only 50 feet into the parade, we were out of said Slim Jims. A bit overzealous with the jerky toss part of our plan, naturally.
It was… awkward. Especially when the grassroots parade would stop and we had to stand in place for a minute or so in front of the same group of people. We just kept doing the same posing, waving and growling over and over again, like wind up dolls with red cheeks that deepened the longer we stood in front of the same people.
But as we marched and waved to many (mostly) blank faces, we also got a few outrageously happy, “OH MY GOD IT’S MACHO MAN.” There were hugs, photos, high fives.
The people who got it, loved it. We were their favorite thing.
I think Justin is a lot like that too.
I get him.
I love him.
He’s my favorite thing.
And I wouldn’t want to walk through life or throw beef sticks at strangers with anyone else.
“The best thing you can do with your life is tackle the motherfucking shit out of love.” Cheryl Strayed