Author's Note: This came to me whilst reading a BuzzFeed article about the same thing happening in real life, but it was a heterosexual couple and it wasn't rather exciting like I'd hoped it would be. Heartwarming, yes. As exciting as I'd hoped, not really, but the fact that the photographer will no longer retouch the photos of anyone is a step in the right direction.
Beca wasn't normally someone who wrote emails. Heck, she could barely write a text message without getting bored and phoning her wife instead (which became an extremely annoying habit when it came to the fact that Chloe was a doctor). But just looking at the glossy prints in the anniversary photo album Chloe had given her - Beca knew this email was necessary.
On the other side of the country, Manhattan to be exact, Stacie was glancing over her girlfriend's shoulder as Aubrey began to work on the latest photo one of their clients had requested she retouch.
"I don't feel honest." Stacie ran her thumb over one of Aubrey's shoulders as the older of the pair continued to erase stretch marks. "I'm as bad as the retail giants."
Stacie hated how often she heard those words drip from the edge of Aubrey's lips. Their female clientele thought it was a great idea to not only spice up their marriage with photos - which neither woman saw wrong in - but they then offered them extra money for Aubrey to put her degree to good use and erase stretch marks, wrinkles, cellulite.
"Don't hate yourself for this baby, hate society." Stacie smiled softly as Aubrey pressed Command S on her keyboard, before quitting Photoshop. As a couple who had only had their business for a few years, their studio had opened when they were both twenty three, Stacie herself was shocked at how many women, and the occasional man, wanted to change the images that they would give to their loved ones. It made her heart sink, sometimes she was even ashamed that the craft of digital enhancement paid for their apartment.
The blinking cursor was still annoying Beca as Emily walked through the front door of their house a few hours later. The sixteen year old yelled a quick welcome to her mother before she moved to her bedroom, Beca looking back at the photo album and the missing stretch marks that documented Emily's growth inside her redheaded mother. She finished typing out the email and quickly sent it off to the business email of the photography studio, not leaving herself with the chance to go back over her actions.
Just as Aubrey was about to shut down the Mac, the mail application began to bounce in its space in the dock.
"Hey," Stacie quickly moved the mouse's cursor to the bouncing application, "hang on a sec Bree." Stacie quickly pulled her own desk chair from her own desk to Aubrey's desk, settling beside her girlfriend who was placing her drawing tablet into a draw in her desk, right beside a photo album Stacie gave her for their own anniversary. "Look at this."
Stacie had opened the most recent email.
Dear Aubrey and Stacie,
Recently my wife and I celebrated our 21st wedding anniversary, and she surprised me with this gorgeous photo album filled with recent pictures she'd had professionally taken - your business card was tucked in the back.
When I opened the album that she gave to me, my heart sank.
These pictures… While they are beautiful and you are both clearly very talented photographers, they are not my wife. You made every one of her "flaws" disappear, and while I'm sure this is exactly what she asked you to do, it took away everything that makes up our life.
When you took away her stretch marks, you took away the documentation of our daughter Emily. When you took away her wrinkles, you took away over two decades of our laughter, and our worries. When you took away her cellulite, you took away her love of baking and all the goodies we have eaten over the years.
She hears it so seldom, that she actually thought these photoshopped images are what I wanted and needed her to look like. I have to do better, and for the rest of my days I am going to celebrate her in all her imperfectness.
Thanks for the reminder,
Beca Mitchell.
The two photographers looked over the email several times, before Aubrey broke the silence through the sound of her mouse clicking, photoshopped photos disappearing from her computer as quickly as they were added.
Back in L.A, Beca smiled as Chloe slid into bed beside her later that evening. The redhead had just returned from work, and Beca had missed her company dearly.
"You know that you're beautiful without photoshop, Chlo." Beca received a hummed reply. "I returned that album you gave me for our anniversary. The two photographers, they're sending one without photoshop, so I really can appreciate how stunning you are."