Just a few weeks before our wedding we were back at Mom & Dad’s hotel. Mom and I went shoe shopping, leaving Jeff and my Dad behind. I would have been happy with white Keds under my floor length skirt, but propriety apparently required shoes. We ended up placing a rush order for the lowest-heeled pair of slip-ons available at a custom dye shop. Mom’s fingers crossed they’d get done in time. Mine were double crossed that they wouldn’t.
When my mother-in-law-to-be asked me who was doing my wedding hair, I told her, “me.”
She looked as surprised by the answer as I did by the question. “Oh, no,” she said. “You shouldn’t do your own hair on your wedding day! Vickie is doing my hair and Nannee’s hair. She can do yours, too.”
Vickie was Sally’s cousin, and Sally and Nannee were always raving about her work, so I said, “Ok.”
I didn’t understand about wedding day hair. I’ve always had fine hair that refused to hold a curl or a sweep or even remain on my forehead as bangs. I figured my hair would look the same no matter who did it, but I kind liked the idea of one less thing to worry about.
Now I know why wedding hair is a big deal. I was astounded at my first glimpse. Mostly because I actually did not see what was happening to my hair.
My mother took pictures of me. I took pictures of her; which I’m sure if she were alive she might protest my sharing. We both spent so much time giggling about each other’s in-progress ‘do’s. We couldn’t help laughing with Vickie, either.
Our styling session became one of my favortie pre-wedding day highlights, and the best way I can re-thank Vickie is to tell this story:
I borrowed a corset and it had the desired effect of keeping everything where it was supposed to be. There was no question that at some point I would have to use the ladies’ room, and there was no question about the fact that I would need help. A lot of help, undoing and redoing.
After the first rounds of wedding dances, and a glass of champagne, my thank-goodness someone brought me a pre-wedding drink (that there absolutely was a need for) was sitting heavily. I tracked down my mother for assistance.
My second glimpse as I entered the restroom, caught me off-guard and surprised me again. Enough so that I stopped in my tracks and exclaimed, “Oooh!”
To be quite honest, up until that point, we’d had things to do and schedules to keep. There was hustling and bustling: to the park for outdoor pictures, to the venue for indoor portraits. Jeff arrived freshly groomed with a barber-shop shave and a car full of live mum plants. There were balloons and canopies and to be quite honest, again, I had no idea when that had happened, either, but I know they happened because of Carey, so that’s another re-thank you I’d like to offer.
Staring at myself in the mirror, I marveled. “I can’t believe that’s me!” I said.“I look like a fairy princess!”
“You do look like a fairy princess,” Mom said. “As you should! It’s your wedding day…”
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If the Shoe Fits: Wear It!