|
july 9, 2000. Bah. I'm in one of those trance-like states in which one feels a profound need for comfort but a reduced will to do anything. This weekend was hard. Not moving out/surprise shower hard, but hard. We were on a mission: pick up bridesmaid dresses from Georgetown and survive the hair/makeup consultation early Sunday morning. Last night I was in the city, of course, dancing. I was supposed to hear from the girls in the morning, then we would all go down together. Well. I got up early & cranky. I ate breakfast & talked with Jack. I fielded increasingly annoyed calls from my mother. I called & left messages with the girls. Nothing for hours. Finally it was too much for me & I burst into tears.
"I can't deal with this!" I sobbed to a sympathetic Boy. "I call them and they're never home and they never return their messages! And I can't get all angry because then they'll be all mad at me! I don't want to be a bitch! But...my mom...keeps putting pressure on me...she doesn't understand! It's like trying to wind an earthworm on a spoon!"
At this point I decided to go home & take a nap.
I showed up at the subway stop tired, sweaty & dirty, wanting nothing more than a shower and a cool place to sleep. If mushrooms wanted to grow on my skin, I certainly wouldn't tell them where to go. But when I got into the car, my mom was on the cell phone. While I was in transit, my girls had called back. Now we were off to the boutique - despite the fact that Morgan was unwashed as well and badly in need of laundry, despite the fact that my mom was sick & cranky, despite the fact that I wanted to go home. Tally ho.
You know, it wasn't so bad. Morgan was pretty angry, of course, but that smoothed out as the afternoon continued. Her 6 year old, Toad (at last!! a pseudonym!) came along with us, which turned out ultra-fun: on the way up he led a symposium on garbage chutes. No joke. Morgan's parents just moved into an apartment building and he's fascinated by the whole phenomenon. So he would talk, then call the room (er...car) to order & name the next speaker. Even my mom thought it was hilarious. (In fact, my parents took to Toad with alacrity. What can I say; their love of kids transcends petty annoyances - which is one of their redeeming qualities.)
So despite a minor incident when the owner took us to task for playfully describing the dresses as "Victorian whore," (but you don't understand! That's a compliment...) we managed to survive the day. Which set the stage for Sunday, the day of the appointment.
Holy cow. The next time I schedule a 9:30 meeting for Little Spider, remind me to shoot myself in the head before it comes due. In her defense, they had a houseguest that weekend - a houseguest that wanted to party all night long. There is no door on the bedroom. After 2 hours sleep she was so angry that she wasn't even talking to me. If Peter Gabriel was right when he said, if looks could kill they probably will, I'd be dead on her kitchen floor right now. The only thing that kept me going was fact that an incensed Little Spider is a rock, but my mother is one hell of a hard place even when she's not angry. So I trod the path of least resistance.
This make-up hair appointment was a dry-run for a salon in downtown Brampton. If I liked what they did, I could book them to come to the house for me & my girls on the day of the wedding. Upon this decision relied a thousand others, so I was very nervous. But it all turned out okay. I was blown away by what they did to me, even before the tiara and veil were affixed to my beauteous head. I looked like Elizabeth Taylor, fer chrissakes (although when I woke up the next day, the backcombing had become snarls worthy of her performance in Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?). I looked so good that I didn't eat for hours after, trying to preserve the lipstick...all the while wishing that I could remove my glam head until later, like the witch in Return to Oz.
My girls opted out, feeling that it was a bit pricey. But I was ready for that. My only concern is that if they ask Little Spider's boy's younger sister Bronwyn to do their makeup that they keep her boyfriend Alexi away from the house. I'm not dealing with that on my wedding day. No sir.
|
