a bride emailed to say her favourite photo was the one where her dad was waiting outside the room, not any of the portraits we'd spent ages planning. i was ridiculously relieved. nobody had complained about the portraits, but i'd been comparing the whole gallery to someone else's very expensive-looking wedding on instagram and quietly deciding mine wasn't enough. her email made me happy, then a little embarrassed about needing it so much. i forwarded it to my fiancé with a casual little caption and reread it three times myself. i'd like to say that was the end of the comparison problem. it was the end for that afternoon.

my shoulder still had the feeling of a camera strap on it while i was standing in the shower, even though the cameras were packed away hours ago. i kept lifting that shoulder like there was something sliding off. twelve hours at a wedding is a lot of tiny adjustments you don't count as movement, leaning round a guest, crouching beside a table, holding still while somebody takes forever to kiss. today i edited with the armrest lower and took an actual lunch break. my wrist liked that, my deadline didn't. i keep buying things to make the kit lighter and then finding room in the bag for one more lens.

we're choosing a photographer for our own wedding and i keep turning a conversation about what we want into questions about backup bodies and file delivery. those matter, obviously, but my fiancé asked whether i actually liked being around the person we'd just met, and i hadn't even put that on my mental list. i was busy imagining every shot they might miss. i'm trying to write down what i want to remember from the day before i make another shot list. so far it's mostly people sitting together and my parents laughing. it sounds easy when it's someone else's wedding. i am apparently a fairly difficult client.