This is the cell phone conversation I overheard this afternoon:
“Yes, well, if you want four bridesmaids and then yourself, it’s one-fifty for each bridesmaid, and then for you it’ll be about four hundred, unless you want an up-do, and then it’ll be closer to five or five-fifty, depending on what you want. Now because you’re thinking about adding your mother — another one-fifty — that might mean we should add another person, so we can get them done all at the same time. That would be another four hundred. And if you want makeup, that’s one hundred per, so add another five hundred — six, with your mother. Now your wedding is at eleven, and you have to get there early, which means you’ll have to come over at 7:30 in the morning. They’d open early for you, which would add another four hundred. So are you all set to book?”
And THIS is why I’m doing my own hair and makeup.
I did my own hair and makeup tonight. Right now, in fact, I’m sitting over here, looking super hot. This past week stee said to a friend of mine that he has a thing for girls in boots and skirts. Now, I’ve never been able to fit in a pair of boots and have missed this boot craze. But the boy is marrying me, and I’ve never been this size before, so I figured I’d suck it up and risk the potential humiliation again. Last time only Evany had to witness the embarrassment. When I finally found a pair that would go over my calves, a complete stranger walked by and said to me, “Those look cheap.”
Anyway, this time I had my pick of the boots, and I found a pair that I like. Hair, makeup, skirt and boots — I walked out into the living room with did a pose I picked up from some jeans commercial from the eighties.
stee gave a quick sideglance from his Grand Theft Auto game. “You’re sexy,” he said.
“The magic is over.”
“What? Don’t say that. I said you looked good.”
“You barely looked.”
“I don’t need to look.”
“Yes, you do.”
And now I’m updating my website about it, because we’re late, because stee is still playing his game even though we were supposed to already leave.
Twenty-two days until we’re married! And then these are the only boots he can look at forever.
…Maybe he didn’t see the boots. I bet that’s it. He never got past the hot rack. The boots will be a pleasant surprise later.