Hairdresser stressor
26.08.15, 12:59 pm
With a lurch of genuine, GENUINE panic, I realised yesterday that I hadn’t learned counting properly at school, and that the wedding is actually 4 weeks on Saturday rather than 5. This is terrifying, because 4 weeks is such a small amount of time it’s barely a time at all. We went over the seating plan again last night (Di of the Dead Husband is not coming, which is a relief because there’s genuinely no room for her) and it’s OK but still worry-inducing. At the end of the day though, I’m going to be on the top table and not really caring about it, so it’s probably unnecessary worry. On Saturday I’ve got my first dress fitting, which I’m actually looking forward to because that dress makes me feel like such a BrideBoss. The dress is the only part of my appearance that I’m not currently anxious about. It’s not much, but I’ll take it.
Hairdresser came over on Friday afternoon to figure out a hairstyle, and it was insanely stressful but also weirdly boring, because all of the curling and pinning takes a frickin’ AGE and I am apathetic about my hair at the best of times. My problem is that I just don’t know if the style looks good or not, so I’m blundering about in the dark and hoping for the best. It’s times like these that you really need someone like a mum, to give you a hand or to just be on the other end of the phone advising, because they have wisdom and perspective and also think that you’re awesome and deserving of all of their time. It makes me kind’ve sad, but it’s OK. I was only 13 when she died, and was too young to have had vague dreams of a wedding and of her being a part of it, and so the fact that she won’t be there doesn’t actually upset me that much. That probably reads quite cold and heartless, but it honestly isn’t meant to.
Still, hair very much NOT sorted yet. I’ve had to take two more days off work so the hairdresser can practise (read: work out what the hell’s going down), and it will cost a fortune, but hopefully Mel will be there for one of them as she’ll be coming up to do her bridesmaid dress fitting and she’ll know what to do and it’ll be fine. The dress is good. The dress makes me look good. Concentrate on that.
Went to see Dad and Amanda on Sunday, to pick up some baby pictures of me that we’re going to project on the wall before the service starts. My parents used to dress me in some total crackhead outfits, my God. The jumpers were particularly insane. The visit went OK, and there was an amusing moment when I reminded them of the songs that we’re going to be singing in the service (Stand By Me by Ben E King and So Happy Together by The Turtles) and Amanda got the familiar look on her face that means I Don’t Know What This Is. I’d bet good money on Amanda only knowing 5 songs, 7 tops. Current things Amanda doesn't know exist: Nirvana, Pavarotti, that dads give speeches at weddings, Star Wars. Amanda doesn’t even know who Gary Lineker is, so expectations are low.
Had my non-hen do weekend a couple of weekends ago, where my old housemates came down and hung out for a couple of days. It was ridiculously fun, especially when we did The Great Escape, which is basically a thing where you’re locked in a room and are given 40 minutes to solve a load of puzzles and escape. Slightly alarming when you start the game by you all being blindfolded, led into the room and then handcuffed to a wall, but still amazing fun. We succeeded with 7 minutes to spare, because we are the shiz. A bit too much time was spent running around the room in a panic, ransacking the cupboards and bellowing at each other, but you’ve got to get into the spirit of things. If you do nothing else in life, go to your nearest Great Escape and try to escape from the mad scientists who are planning on releasing a noxious gas and kill the planet. It’s awesome.
Oh balls, lunch hour finished a good 15 minutes ago. And I was hoping to spend some time looking at paper lanterns on eBay. Better get back to curing cancer, very very very slowly.
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