My wedding-themed sojourn in DFW left me with many details to convey but with little energy to deliver. After arriving home roughly around 11pm, I greeted my alarm clock with a vacant stare void of any recognition after what seemed to be merely five minutes later. I was further dismayed upon finding that the elementary school near my house was not in session, today. One would ordinarily be pleased to avoid a school zone upon rushing to work, but my ire was encouraged by the realization that the parents and children normally facing the harsh realization of morning incoherency were still at home in their pajamas. A pox on you and your Monday off, Mary Branch Elementary!
Anyhow, as promised….
A picture of Juliana’s lovely Galina bridal gown. (I didn’t have a moment to think, much less bring a camera of my own.)
And while we can all agree that Juliana’s dress is an absolutely gorgeous choice with its sweetheart neckline in ivory taffeta, can we take a moment to discuss my hair…
|Yep, that's me with my back to the camera...and that's what my hair looked like.|
Now, when I say that necessity is the mother of invention, I mean that when someone royally fouls up my hair a mere hour before I need to be in the limo headed towards my sister’s wedding, I will manage a mediocre updo with minor panicking involved. (To those of you present for the said “minor” panicking, I assure you that my level of emotion was quite composed compared to the inner storm of emotions that raged in my gut.)
So, my hair was far from perfect. No names shall be uttered, as I’ve seen wonderful work produced by a certain anonymous hairstylist, but the tedious construction of the messy, matted down mixture of curls and sticky-outy pieces was nothing short of tragic. Thanks to a plethora of bobby pins and a gallon of hair spray, no one pointed and laughed as I tripped down the aisle.
In the stylists’ defense, we never had time for a run through, and I don’t have the easiest hair to work with. And my life was not ruined.
Needless to say, though, I would have greatly appreciated it if the person would have just stopped roughly 20 minutes in and said, “Look, this is not going to work….how do you feel about a straightening iron?”
“I feel quite compliant, as I am not anxious to look like a Grandma who got drunk before putting in her hair rollers and sleeping in them for a month,” would have been my reply.
Oh well, my hair was haphazardly pinned up, I had a glass of wine, and life continued. The wedding was beautiful and fun, and Juliana had little trouble being the prettiest girl there.