Thursday, March 24, 2011

Wedding day, part one - Preparations

I was determined that after the last two weddings I was in, I was not going to do everyone’s makeup. It always stressed me out and had me rushing into my dress at the last minute, feeling not as put together as the others. But unfortunately, one of my faults is that I have a hard time saying no to something that’s going to make me look turning some busted bitch into the belle of the ball.

“Oh my god, you did such a good job on her makeup! She looks so much better!”

“I know.”

Own it, I say. False modesty is just silly.

This was, of course, how I found myself standing in a corner, applying foundation to the bride’s face, wondering why no one had had the balls to suggest she wax her mustache before her wedding day. I’d never been that close to her before and had I known how bad it really was, I most certainly would have said something. But there was no point stressing her out about it at that point – what was done was done.

Papa has always had a case of “keeping up with the Joneses”, so what was once, over 25 years ago, a one room fishing cabin is now a three story monstrosity surrounded by random porches and more brick columns than are strictly necessary. On the side of the house that faces the lake, the majority of which is his bedroom, there are huge side by side windows all the way around. The view is spectacular, but I can tell you from personal experience that it loses a bit of its luster after you’ve had to clean those suckers. Still, his room is my favorite part of the house and the one that’s always designated for bridal preparations.

So while Tess sat on a stool facing the two corner windows, the black hairs of her mustache shining in the afternoon sunlight, I applied makeup as quickly as possible. And all around us there was chaos. The bed and chairs were covered in plastic dress bags, bottles of hair spray and various undergarments that would have looked more at home in a torture chamber. The counters were littered with makeup and shoes were scattered at random across the hardwood floor. Bridesmaids and other female family members were running in and out of the room in various states of undress. One hair stylist had set up camp in the bathroom while the other, who happened to be a new neighbor, was stationed just behind me.

John, the new hair stylist, was an interesting character – tall, round in all the wrong places and in complete denial about his sexual orientation. Even I knew he wasn’t batting for the home team, and my gaydar is nonexistent. Ever seen Will and Grace? I’m Grace, with breasts...and hips. If there’s a hot gay guy in the vicinity that isn’t making out with another guy, I’ll probably hit on him.

He was teasing my cousin’s wife’s long blonde hair into a half up 80’s video nightmare. While he walked around her, swinging his hips and flicking his wrists, I saw her eyes dart from person to person, desperately trying to get someone to say something, anything, to stop him. But she was the “MOH” (read: maid of honor / supreme bossy douche bag) and guilty of choosing those horrendous dresses for us, so I just smiled and kept my mouth shut.

One of the girls walked into the bathroom carrying her dress and he stopped teasing long enough to confirm everyone’s suspicions. “Honey, make sure you shut that door! Just because I’m a male hairdresser doesn’t mean I’m gay! God made Adam and Eve, not Adam and Steve, mmmk! I’m marrrrrrriED”, he shouted, waving his ring finger in the air.

I caught Marie’s eye from across the room and grinned.

“I did my wife’s hair and makeup on our wedding day”, he continued. “I wasn’t letting anyone mess it up, no ma’am!”

By the time I’d finished Tess’s and the MOH’s makeup, the whole room was ready to kill him. Everyone looked great, with the exception of the MOH, but I thought to myself that I’d made a good decision in asking my godmom to do my hair instead of going with the crowd. At the very least I wouldn’t have to listen to anymore of his shrieking. I figured I had just enough time to finish Tess’s mom’s makeup (which she asked me to do completely last minute) and run up to my house for my godmom to just throw the lot of it atop my head.

Unfortunately it took me a little longer than anticipated. Tess’s mom doesn’t speak any English, other than the names of Papa’s seven dogs, the name of that stupid goose (Larry) and “hello”, so every time I turned my back to grab something, she’d slide off the chair and try to totter out of the room. I’d have to lead her back and mime sitting down and closing my eyes, showing her what to do. But at least I didn’t break up my words into a dozen syllables and shout at her like my Grandma does when someone speaks a different language. Those poor Burmese children down the street are still suffering from post traumatic hearing loss.

When I finally made it home, Leigha had claimed my hair appointment and I was left waiting. Angry about being pushed aside, I grabbed my things and stomped back down the hill, cursing and threatening to walk down the aisle with a frizzy ponytail. That’s when John offered to do it and, feeling defeated, I agreed.

I relaxed into the chair and sighed.

“How do you want it done”, he asked.

“I want the front pulled back, soft curls”, I said, thinking that maybe it would be alright. He walked around my chair, lifting a piece of hair here and there, studying me like a bug under a microscope.

“No big 80’s shit either”, I added, just in case.

“No problem”, he said.

But less than five minutes later, after blow drying it and curling it under with a round brush, he sent someone for his straightener. “I think I’m going to do something different with you”, he said.

At first I panicked, my eyes flicking to the MOH’s unmistakable frizz tower, but after glancing at my phone and realizing that pictures were less than half an hour away, I gave in and thought, “Fuck it. There’s no time.”

“Will you let me do whatever I want to it?”, he asked.

In my experience nothing good has ever followed that sentence, but I glared at him and said, “As long as it’s not big 80’s hair, I don’t care. Just do it.”

And do it he did, throwing out the Adam and Steve line at least two more times in the process.

After spaying me with the bright red can labeled “BIG SEXY HAIR” and something to make it “shine”, he let me stand up. As I walked to the mirror he said, “You could be a model for the makeup store! This hairstyle really opens up your face.”

My eyes opened wide and an involuntary “Oh!” slipped from my mouth. I looked like a lion. I was surprised my reflection wasn't roaring and licking its wrist. He’d styled the front to stand up in an arch and the sides were flipped out and styled the same. I could hear the other hair stylist sniggering in the background, but I waited until he left the room to comment.

“I look like there’s a fan pointed at my head! I’m going to have to run down the aisle so it looks like the wind is actually blowing it back!”

I tried to use a pick to soften the bridge across my forehead, but it was too stiff. “BIG SEXY HAIR” apparently does its job. And there was no time to redo it; we were being called outside for pictures.

“It looks fine”, Marie said.

“You look like a lion”, Cory laughed.

“Ah! What scared you”, Ben asked.

And after an hour and a half of pictures, I walked down the aisle that way. I decided to pretend like it wasn’t happening – like I wasn’t dodging goose shit on a brick pathway in a booger green dress that as soon as I’d pushed my shoulders back had popped the new seams the altering lady had put in to keep the twins from jumping out and yelling “surprise”, with a lion’s mane framing my face.

But, little did I know, I’d soon have more than a hairstyle and escaping breasts to worry about.


JUST ME said...

That man's poor WIFE.

Never, ever, in the history of the entire milky way, marry a man who does your make-up for you.

Kristin said...

i can't wait to hear more! i wish you had pictures of the hair. i'm sure you rocked it :)

Krissy said...

Laughing my freaking ass off here! Girl, only you could have told that story in quite the same way. I was sooo picturing you running down the aisle so that it would look like your hair was blown back. I can't wait to hear the rest of this.

Baglady said...

Hilarious. Love the "gay" hairdresser and the twins.

Looking forward to part two. Nice work with the cliffhanger ending - you just need a close up shot of your face looking pensive before cutting to the credits.

Megan said...

You should have roared as you walked down the aisle at a sprint. What a memorable wedding that would have been.

The Nerd said...

Too funny. Aren't wedding stories great? Can't wait to read the rest.

Pam Strickland said...

I feel your pain. I had an experience like this when I was picked for a demonstration at school. The Mary Kay woman painted me up like a ho and I didn't have time to wash my face before running to town to meet my boyfriend for lunch. Aarrgg . . . I hated that. I can't wait to hear the rest of this story.

You're Lucky I Don't Have a Gun... said...

ohhhhh shit, this story just kept getting better and better. i'm not exagerrating when i say i was laughing out loud. i got fucking hearts in my eyes @ "I was surprised my reflection wasn't roaring and licking its wrist".

puhlease say you have pictures...

Eric said...

'I think I'm going to do something different with you.'

Haha, I'm going to use this inappropriately at least once a month from now on.

BugginWord said...

Nothing good ever follows the sentence, "But, little did I know, I’d soon have more than [insert anything appropriate here] to worry about."

I'm honestly frightened to come back.

Also, I'm awfully worried about how flammable you are at this point...

Ed said...

Two things:
"I’m going to have to run down the aisle so it looks like the wind is actually blowing it back!”


"...popped the new seams the altering lady had put in to keep the twins from jumping out and yelling “surprise”.."

Cause me to actually LOL.

Good show.

Robert Hagedorn said...

According to the story, God did make Adam and Eve, not Adam and Steve. But...Adam and Steve could have done exactly the same thing Adam and Eve did. Do a search: The First Scandal. Then click twice.

Fa L'Americana said...

Oh my... please tell me there's some kind of happy ending to this story?

Nari said...

I'm sorry but...BWAHAHAHAHAH! I can't stop picturing you walking down the aisle with your hair giving off the impression of a high speed car chase.

I laugh but I do it with love.

Happy Frog and I said...

Thank you, this was so well written but also hilarious. I could really picture everything that was going on right down to your hair do.

runawaybride said...

Lol.. what more than this could be worrying you?..

Anthony Hodgson said...

That had me laughing out loud. The moustache, the twins, the married gay hairdresser and lion hair. Can't wait for part two.

Shruthi said...

Dear GOD! I hate to find this much hilarity in your misery, it can't be helped. But if it were me, I'd have slugged Adam and Steve's publicist!

My best friend's wedding had this amount of chaos too, except we needed to get into sarees. Of course, she had an aunt who wanted to look exactly like her, and ended up yelling at the stylist for making her look old! :-|

IT was entertaining for those of us who only went as far as getting our frizz straightened.

rubbish said...

Jeez, Anthony Hodgson wrote everything I was going to the fooking bastard (no offence mate). Cracking story and I have seen the photos as well. Scary.

jerrod said...

“I look like there’s a fan pointed at my head!"

That's my favorite.

Thug in a Cocktail Dress said...

So glad you decided to post again!! It seemed like it had been FOREVER!!!

Anonymous said...

That hair dresser's "wife" must be a pre-op tranny. And WTF is it with weddings and hair do's and run-away twins?

Can't wait for part deux!

The Vegetable Assassin said...

LOL. And you tease us not only with the cliffhanger but also with no photographic evidence? How is that fair? We want to see the lion on your head! :)

Sara said...

I can't wait to read the next part! And PLEASE tell me we get to see a picture of the hair??

Sharon Longworth said...

Like everyone else, I can't wait for the next instalment. I could read your writing all day and never tire of it.

Sarah P said...

Nice descriptions.

The mustache, the hairdresser, the house ... nice.

Lou said...

Oh, this is bringing back memories of my sister's wedding last December. Shiver.

What is it with wedding hairdressers though? Seriously, why do they have to try something new on the bloody day it needs to be perfect. Idiots.

Can't wait to read part deux. :)

Anonymous said...

"When I wake up in makeup" now I know what it means :-)

Expectant said...

Love this post - as with most (if not all) of your posts, this had me glued to the VDU (not literally) until the end. I only wish I will someday manage posts of the same calibre!

But really, what wedding is complete without big 80's hair and escaping breasts? Or was that just mine...

Can't wait for part two!

Maryx said...

Nice! Whahahahahahaha!!
Yeah I wish I could see the hair too! Can't wait for the next installment =)

Brilliant writing!

Keri said...

Hi there. You are one funny lady. This post/blog is wonderful. Loveit loveit loveit.


Ms. Salti said...

I do wedding makeup occasionally, and good lord, there are a few women that I should have had a wax strip ready for! I've decided I'm over doing makeup for other people. Especially when I've gotta do my own as well... by the end of it all I'm sweating like a pig and have to leave looking like hell!

Bth said...

Oh, this is brilliant! You've really cheered me up! Gosh, that guy's poor wife... And poor you, for that matter. Nevertheless, I bet you were a real cute lion. ;-)

Ally said...

A photo of said lion 'do would have been splendid!

Lady Jennie said...

I echo that first comment - poor man's wife!

I have had a couple of dreadful bridesmaid do's and dresses. I think I'm old enough to have escaped all the rest.