Crunchy ‘Nanas

Apparently, I’ve grown to be the kind of person that freaks out after the fact. I used to get anxious about shots or getting blood drawn, but now I can do it without worrying and shaking (too much). However, I feel weak in the knees as I’m walking home 10 minutes after the needle’s punctured my skin.

A month ago, one of my best friends asked if I would please be a part of her beauty consultation team and help her and her beautiful bride get ready for their wedding. I accepted with honor, despite not being what you’d say hip in the primping department. The last beauty magazine I can recall reading is so last century. The team also consisted of one of my other friends who, like me, looks at blow dryers and mascara as mysterious entities too scary to fathom, and one who totally knows how to rock the make up world. I wasn’t worried too much though because the request was basically a request to help her put her shirt on.

As it happened, everything went very well, if I do say so myself. We were able to suitably finish up the brides’ glowing natural beauty in a way that Shan’s mother exclaimed, “it’s still my daughter!” I think she may have been worried the circus was coming to town and landing itself at her daughter’s wedding. I was even able to bust out my french-braiding skills on the spot. They were a bit rusty, having not really french-braided since high school, but in the end, no one shouted in horror at Julia’s hair, so we did okay. (My mom reminded me later I received the women’s choir award for best french-braider, but I’ve always believed this was less a statement about my hair-styling skills and more a statement about my vocal qualities.)

And yet, last night I had the craziest dream that we were back two weeks and it was the morning of the wedding. Shannon’s hair was shorter than usual but it looked fine. However, Julia had dyed her hair pink and yellow. And then shaved columns out of it and mohawked the center short bits. I walked in, and was just like, oh my god, has your mom seen your hair?! What are we going to do? The dream didn’t last beyond that thank goodness, but I remember thinking it was all my fault.

I’d like to blame the full dose of advil pm I took to help me sleep last night, but I don’t think the dream was (too) drug-induced. I’ll be back to my usual half-dose if I need it tonight, though.

Me and the beautiful brides, sans pink and yellow mohawk, thank goodness!

Very Official Beauty Consultants!

This entry was posted on Wednesday, 16th July 2008 at  13:40 and is filed under Family and friends. You can follow responses to this entry using the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.