Sitting in the uncomfortable salon chair today, neck painfully cradled in the comfy u of porcelain, incongruously getting a great scalp massage, I overheard The Bride in the seat beside me, rhapsodizing about how crazy in love he is with her. How sweet he looks — or rather, how sweet she solicited the stylist, motherly russian hottie, to assure her he looks. How she knew I couldn’t say – turning your head so much as an inch in one of those things could result in unplanned death by cranial hemorrage. And on she went. Rehearsal dinner in 3 hours. The rain forcast for tomorrow, the shampoo boy earnestly telling her rain is good luck, the I can’t believe I’m getting married! The I’ll be married, actually married! I’ll be an old woman!
“I just have to see this old woman,” i said to the shampoo boy, risking said hemorrage. Less than 25. Her mother in law thinks it looks orange, her hair. And tomorrow at this time she’ll be Mrs. Steven S! Wife of Dr. Stephen S., that is, last name withheld. Salon coincidence dictated we end up in adjacent seats again. Occasionally the frothy excitement sustained by the sylist subsided, and she, shamelessly entitled, continued wtih a renewed breathy “I can’t believe I’m getting married tomorrow,” followed that I could see, this time, by rueful mugging, as though on set of a sitcom in which she starred as the never-thought-she-had-it-in-her protagonist. At this point questions arose, such as rehearsal dinner in just over 2 hours? Her blowdry/style revealed that her highlights started down about 4 inches from her head, and were of such an icy shade mingled in with the warmer tones that I kind of saw what the mother in law was talking about. Like a shameless little princess mooning about her ruby slippers and pink fuzzy tiara, the Bride carnivorously paraded her Mrs. Stephen S. and I can’t believe i’m going to be married, slipping in the odd question of what she should do if he doesn’t call her tonight! Oh no! Should she call him? At this point i wondered by the middle aged stylist was the only one walking this girl through her rehearsal dinner preparations. I wonder if he will call her tonight… I wonder if he knows preventative medicine fora frail ego seeking to define herself with his identity, name and all. I’m sure she called first.
