I’ve had this vision for Easter portraits in my head for quite awhile now, but getting Henry to go along with it was not that easy, even for me. Well, that’s not true – it was pretty easy. But he still waited until an hour before we left the house to pull some 13th hour divo stunt and tried to text his son Blake to be a fill-in. I completely lost my shit, started crying, screamed JUST FORGET IT! and stormed off to my bedroom, slamming the door behind me.
As if I wasn’t already stressed enough about the Penguins playoff implosion.
Approximately five minutes later, Henry came upstairs. I forget what exactly he said to me, but it wasn’t a distinct “I am not going to do this” so that gave me hope and I went back downstairs to harp on him some more. I even promised to take the trolley to work all week!
“Look,” Christina whispered to me while Henry was in the kitchen mouthing off about how he hates when I tell him what he’s going to do. “You know he’s going to do it. He just has to put on this little show to keep some of his masculinity.” But then Chooch started crying too because all he knew was that at some point that day, he was going to get to put makeup on, and now suddenly HENRY was going to take that away from him.
“You want me to drive to some abandoned private property, put on makeup and have my picture taken,” Henry barked. “That’s like a trifecta of things I hate.”
“He just learned that word,” I said snidely to Christina.
“You owe me,” he said before he left, and Christina told me later that the part I didn’t hear was him saying, “And I’m not talking about sex, either.” OMG THEN WHAT?!
Did I mention that Henry was also sick all weekend? He had a fever the day before, even. But because he is the BEST BOYFRIEND EVER, he tucked his tail between his legs and drove us out to Elizabeth, PA (even stopping on his own accord to get an extra pair of bunny ears) where he then stood obediently in front of me while I smeared costume makeup all over his face.
“I’m not laughing,” he snarled as I was doing my signature “laughing til I pee”-squat. But I’m certain I saw the corners of his mouth fighting to curl up.
On Saturday, Christina and I went to Goodwill to grab a dress shirt for Henry. I knew I wanted it to be a certain color, and wasn’t sure yet if I was going to incorporate fake blood, so I didn’t want to run the risk of ruining one of Henry’s TWO WHOLE DRESS SHIRTS. For once, Goodwill didn’t fail me and I was really pleased with the shirt we found (Henry was of a different opinion), and then on a whim I said, “Let’s see if anything looks good in the boys section.” And holy shit, not only did we find a blazer, but we also found these plaid skinny jeans that happened to be in Chooch’s size. The unfortunate part is that not only are they for girls (who really cares about that though), they’re from that asshole Gwen Stefani’s kids clothing line, and I REALLY CAN’T STAND HER. But at least they were only like, $3.
(They also came with a detachable skirt, which we quickly unbuttoned before Chooch had a chance to notice. Good thing too, because he ended up loving these pants and wanted to wear them all weekend.)
(His tie was also a last minute find, and also for girls; the bottom is encrusted with rhinestones, another thing he didn’t seem to notice.)
I love that he looks like he’s going to a Sex Pistols show.
Fetus came along for the ride. I love him so.
I was angry that there was so much foliage around, so I put Christina to work (she is my slave, after all); she wound up taking all kinds of cuts and scratches back to Ohio with her. She even tried (and failed) to construct a bridge for us to cross over the muddy path that separated us from the small building I wanted to use.
Henry isn’t posing, he’s actually watching for cops because he was so paranoid we were going to get in trouble for trespassing, oh noes.
I can only imagine what goes on his head when I make him do the un-fun parts of the photo shoots. Having Christina there allowed me to get an extra 5 shots out of him, though. Usually he peaces out much sooner.
Did I mention it was over 80 degrees on Sunday? It was.
Afterward, we went to lunch at Blue Flame. I posted one of the bunny pictures of Henry that I had taken with my phone to Instagram and when I showed Henry, he quietly said, “Send that to me.”
“Why?” I asked.
“Because it’s a picture of me and I have a right to have it!” he said all defensively, because god forbid he should EVER admit that MAYBE he thinks something I did was KIND OF COOL.
Anyway, Henry kind of rules for doing this. And so far, I have not taken the trolley to work this week.