A Bridesmaid Turned Golden Girl

We’ve all heard the horror stories. You’re asked to be in a wedding and agree to get your hair and makeup done. You sit down on the salon chair and show a strange woman a photo you clipped from a magazine. You say, “I’d like it to look like this. Soft, not too much.” Then she spins your chair around, your back to the mirror. And the next time you see your reflection…

I’m sorry, I’m not sure I’m ready to talk about it yet. Oh, wait, yeah I am. Basically I was traumatized by an evil woman who is more qualified to be working on Extreme Makeover Geriatric Edition than at a salon specializing in bridal parties. You see, I went into a shop on Saturday afternoon holding a photo of this:

And instead of looking like Portia de Rossi, I was transformed into a frightening combination of these:


Unfortunately (or fortunately in my mind), I don’t have an actual photo of the assault to satisfy your rubber necking pleasures. The bridesmaids snapping pictures later admitted that as the “hairstyle” got underway, it just seemed wrong to document the atrocity on film. And I, of course, ripped every one of the bobby pins out in the car on the drive from the salon.

Now, I know what you’re thinking: Why didn’t you say anything? Speak up, woman!

I DID! I swear to you. When the woman turned my back to the mirror, I got a little nervous. I wanted to see what was going on—especially when I felt pins being forced a good six inches above where my scalp ended. So I asked to see it and she said, “Sure, give me second.” And she kept right on pinning while simultaneously unloading the full contents of an aerosol hairspray bottle (the ozone got a little thinner that day, I apologize). After about ten minutes and 30 more pins, I asked her again. Again, she ignored me.

Finally, another employee asked for my “stylist’s” lunch order and I capitalized on her distraction by rapidly swinging my chair around. The sight I saw then caused a reaction in me that looked a little something like this:

I immediately told her it was freakishly too high, I asked her to fix it, I pushed at the giant angular-shaped puffball with my fingers and you know what she said, “Don’t! You’ll mess it up!” She didn’t seem to understand that that was precisely my point. But there was nothing more I could do. She wouldn’t listen; I accepted my fate.

Thankfully, I managed to get a brush through the resulting rat’s nest creating tons of those nasty white hairspray flakes from the can of gunk she had unleashed. It took a couple of bridesmaids, a curling iron, a ponytail holder and five bobby pins, but in the end I was able to somewhat resemble 30-year-old woman living in the year 2008.

The good news is, the wedding was AWESOME! The ceremony was on the beach; it was 75 degrees; the bride looked amazing; the food was fabulous; and we danced all the way through the after-party until 2 am.

The bride and groom even rented an arcade-style photo booth and all the guests got to take as many pictures in it as they wanted. Some went a little nuts (you know who you are, hehe). But I saw the album the next day and it’s hysterical! Fabulous idea! And they offered a candy bar as the favor—you can’t beat a bag of Snickers, Twizzlers, Starburst and M&Ms the next morning. Rockin’ wedding, Jen! Congrats!

Plus, don’t forget to enter PART TWO of the Amor and Summer Secrets Back-To-School Giveaway!

I’m giving away two complete Amor and Summer Secrets Prize Packs, so be sure to enter by sending me the links to your online reviews for a chance to win copies of Amor and Summer Secrets, Amigas and School Scandals, and more! ENTER NOW!


Yay! The new fall shows are all back in full effect! So far, I loved the premiere of How I Met Your Mother. “Relationship” Barney is hysterical. Heroes is blowing my mind—the gun-wielding brunette Claire is scary awesome. But sadly, I think Oprah’s been a snooze fest—she’s been back for two weeks and she’s already had two lame psychologist shows about divorce. Also, I didn’t record Dancing with the Stars because despite having Misty May (whom I love), I can’t commit to watching a program that airs for two hours three straight nights per week. That’s encroaches a bit too much on my DVR space. I try to maintain a life, people.

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