I slept horribly last night, and I have no idea why. I went to bed at a reasonable time, but I couldn’t fall asleep for ages and I woke up what felt like every hour. Consequently, this post may make no sense, and if so, I apologize. So anyway, today has been pretty miserable for me, struggling to stay awake at my desk. Thank god for the free diet coke. (And yes, I’m still drinking lots of water too. Don’t fear for my kidneys. Yet.)
Yesterday was the trial run for my hair and make-up. I loved the hairstyle, I thought it was gorgeous – although I counted the number of bobby pins when I took it down, and folks, it took 66 bobby pins to get my hair that gorgeous. That’s a terrifying thought. As for the make-up, that was good too, except that I had to keep telling the girl to put more on. Maybe it’s because I came in with no make-up on, and she didn’t want to overwhelm me, but I kept explaining that I am a southern girl and we do big hair and big make-up. She eventually got my eyes done the way that I wanted, but I’m going to have to do my own mascara, because she just didn’t get them nearly as big and curly as I wear them on a daily basis. (Even Dave said “yeah, you need more eyelashes” when I got home – and he normally doesn’t notice that type of thing, so I took that as a definite sign that I should do my own mascara.) I understand that a lot of brides want to look subtle and demure, but dammit, I am not one of those brides. I love make-up, I may very well have been a drag queen in a previous life, and generally my rule is the more the better. Glam me up! However, there is a limit – I didn’t like the lip line that she did because I thought she made my lips look too big. I usually keep my lipstick just on the inside of my lip line, and she filled it out all the way to the edges, so I felt very Angelina Jolie. Dave liked it, but it made me feel weirdly self-conscious (like my face was all lips), so I think I’m going to tell her to ease up on the full & pouty thing next time.
In other news, my mom called me at work today to ask me if it’s ok if she gets a French manicure for my wedding. As if I might have some strong moral objection to or deep-seated hatred of French manicures (or as Angie once called them, Freedom manicures). What the hell?? I think people are worrying that I’m going to be the super-sensitive control-freak bride, and folks, that’s just not true. Ask my bridesmaids, I let them pick out their own dresses! Seriously! I am the Super Relaxed and Cool Bride! I promise! Ok, maybe not, but I’m really not that nitpicky about little details. Like the color of my mother’s fingernails. For god’s sake, do some brides actually get worked up about that? I appreciate the fact that people are trying to be respectful, but the eggshell-walking is really not necessary. Sheesh.
Oh yeah, 13 days to go! Woo-hoo!!