The Revolution Health team recently asked me to weigh in with some medical advice for healthy weddings. We’re going to publish the article in an upcoming press release, and I’m pretty excited about it. For you faithful blog readers, I thought I’d give some further background.
Almost all weddings contain some sort of unanticipated snafu, and mine was no exception. However, all things considered - I got off easy. And this was by design. I had only 15 guests at my wedding - and with so few “moving parts” the day was a fairly well oiled machine.
My wedding drama involved my hairdo. Guys, you’re not going to understand this part too well - but you might keep reading just to help you appreciate what your wives/fiancees go through. I had booked an appointment at a hair salon 30 minutes away from my wedding site (the Inn at Little Washington - which I highly recommend for anyone who likes impeccable service and world-class dining). I had done my research and found the best salon in the area, booked a month in advance and confirmed 3 days prior. And so when I arrived at the salon and was met with a blank stare from a gum-chewing receptionist (who said that my stylist had called in sick and all the others were fully booked) I was taken aback.
“But I’m a bride and my wedding is in 3 hours from now. Surely someone can style my hair into a quick updo?”
The receptionist shrugged. “The other stylists are fully booked. Sorry”
I looked at her in disbelief. How could she be so cold?
“Well, do you know of another salon nearby where I might find someone do do my hair?”
“I’m not from around here,” she said, starting to file her nails. “I don’t know where you’d find another salon.”
So I left the salon and got into my Chevy rental car and drove around a small town in rural Virginia, looking for a hair dresser. After 30 minutes of random cruising, I spotted a super-cuts type shop in a strip mall. I drove up and jumped out of the car, anxiety levels rising…
I explained my predicament to the ladies in the salon, who told me that there was no one who could do my hair on such short notice. I suppose that I looked completely crest fallen, because one young stylist overheard the story and said she’d squeeze me in right after her next client. “I’ve done a lot of the prom hair lately,” she said, attempting to inspire confidence in her skills.
“Ok great.” I said, sitting down in a black vinyl chair, imagining what prom hair in rural Virginia might look like.
The young woman went to work on my long hair with a curling iron and copious amounts of hair spray and bobby pins. I did my best not to criticize her efforts, as it was kind of her to take me on with no notice. But I did wonder why she was flattening the top of my hair and building a sort of conical structure on the back of my head.
At the end of the session I realized that my hair looked quite dreadful. I thanked her and quickly left the salon, jumped in my Chevy and began driving back to my hotel trying to calculate how long it would take to jump in the shower, wash the goo out of my hair, and put it in a pony tail in time for the ceremony.
As I arrived at the Inn, my sister spotted me as I attempted to dash into my room.
“Hey, Val, that’s a wild hairdo. You know, you kind of look like that creature from the movie Alien. Your cone hair is kind of the same shape as…”
“Yeah, yeah… I know. I’m going to hop in the shower.” My vision of being a beautiful, glamorous bride were diminishing by the minute.
“Let me fix it!” She said, following me into my bathroom suite.
Images of our childhood rushed back to me - she liked to play with Barbies (I preferred building blocks and books) and cut all of their long hair into short Mohawks.
“Um… do you think that’s a good idea?” I asked nervously.
“Sure, I can take the pins out, fluff it up and twist it into a rose shape.”
Suddenly my husband’s sister burst into the bathroom with her camera. “I heard your hair looked terrible, and thought I’d get a photo!” she blurted. Then stopped short to consider the style. “Wow, you do look just like Alien!” she said, raising her camera and laughing out loud.
“Please don’t take a picture of this!” I pleaded, instructing my sister to escort her out of my bathroom.
Fortunately, no photos were taken - and my sister went to work removing the cone of blonde hair from the back of my head.
Much to my surprise, my sister’s hair styling skills had dramatically improved since Barbie days. She was able to twist my locks into a lovely, elegant rose shaped bun with soft ringlets framing my face. It was a miracle.
And so, with only minutes to spare, I arrived at the ceremony looking and feeling my best. Almost no one knew what I’d just been through, and the rest of the evening was touching, intimate, and elegant. It was a “perfect” wedding.
So, I guess my point is that weddings will always have their flaws and drama - but the most important thing to keep in mind is that you’re marrying the man you love. The real secret to a healthy wedding is marrying a good person. Someone who will adore you, cone head and all, through the long years to come. I’m going to spend this Memorial Day weekend celebrating our second anniversary at the Inn with my dear hubby. I’ll write my next post on Tuesday! Have a great weekend.This post originally appeared on Dr. Val’s blog at RevolutionHealth.com.