Wedding Hair
Three days. I had three days until I married the love of my life. Three days that I had to not let anything go wrong. Now my hair came out in clumps each time I gently touched my head. I couldn’t help but stare in the mirror, it was horrifying. Some strands were long enough to stick out like mini mohawks; other patches were bare skin. I was on FaceTime with my sister and mum who were setting up my rehearsal dinner. They were crying more than necessary.
“Okay, Birt. I got the clippers.” Mark, my fiancé, stood in the doorway clippers in one hand, a barber’s cape in the other. My sister let out a mucus-filled squeal and disappeared from the screen.
“I’m sorry Britney. You how your sister gets. We consider this the wedding that she never had. And with the pregnancy, she’s even more emotional. We’ll call you after we sort everything out.” The phone call disconnected. Mark stood behind me, smiled and gave me a kiss on my temple. He was a barber by profession so I trusted that he wouldn’t disappoint. He put the cape around me and turned on the clippers. A smile never left my lips.
The past 6 months had been a nightmare. Every decision I made was thrown away by my mum and sister. Especially decisions with my hair. I had always been more on the masculine side of gender expression and like to keep my hair short. My mum and sister had never agreed and blackmailed me into growing my hair out so I could ‘look like a girl’. Mark had never minded my hair short.
“It makes your face stand out more and I like that you can't hide behind it.” He had said to me when I asked him about it during one of my many breakdowns caused by my family. Mark had stood beside me during everything that my family had put me through. We had decided that we weren't going to tell my family about us getting engaged and only inform them of the wedding date as close to the date as possible. Our original date was 3 months ago. My sister had found out 6 months ago and told mum to cover her ass after finding out that she was pregnant, out of wedlock. There was one rule in our family, we could sleep around as we pleased but no pregnancy out of wedlock. My sister and her partner took our original wedding and we had to replan, under the direct instruction of my mum and sister. There was not a single element of the wedding that was what I had wanted, it was what my sister wished her’s could have been.
Today was no different. I had to head over to my parent’s place at the crack of dawn so they could do my hair into a glorified bird’s nest. It was puffy and had flowers running through it with long strands loose in places. Not close to what I had wanted.
“Did a mouse make a home on your head?” Mark had burst out laughing when he saw me. I laughed with him but it turned to sobs very quickly. My sister cursed at me for ruining the make-up she had done. My reflection looked like a clown or at least a person from 17th-century France.
“Get out of here Mark! Honey, come escort Mark out of the house since he can't be nice to the bride.” Dad grabbed Mark by the shoulder and lead him away. I couldn't stop crying enough to protest.
It was midday when they finished turning me into a circus act. My dad dropped me home and Mark met me at the driveway. I waited until my dad was around the corner before I broke down in Mark’s arms. He led me inside where he had lunch waiting. When I looked back at him I couldn't help but laugh.
“Ah…you have a little something on your shirt.” I gestured to the area where a very interesting stain was forming.
“What?” He stretched his black shirt to try and see it.
“My face.”
Mark frowned and looked in the hallway mirror. Sure enough, there was a squished impression of my painted face on his shirt. A look of disgust crossed his face and he looked at me. With a large step and sudden motion he had his shirt off and was wiping my face.
“Much better. Now I can see my beautiful bride-to-be. Y’know that you are going to get major breakouts right?” Mark held my smeared face in his hands and kissed me gently. After lunch, I needed some time to myself so I went for a walk.
I had to take shelter at a bus stop, a sudden downpour had taken over the sky and I couldn’t ruin my hair. The bus stop had several people under. Even with the change in the weather, I was happy, it gave me time to just stop for a moment.
“It’s my wedding,” I whispered to myself. I sat on the bench and went to lean my head against the warm metal before leaning forward on my knees instead. I couldn’t ruin my hair. I had my dog, Baxter, with me, a Staffy cross Ridgeback, although he looked like a Pitbull with a quick glance, I kept him on a short leash because of it. A child sat next to me; their mum was on the phone looking the other way. It was a familiar sight. The child was playing with a distinctly pink bottle of cream that they had picked out of the shopping bag. They were spreading the cream over their arms and rubbing aggressively, as it wouldn’t soak in, causing little hairs to fall out. I began to imagine the scene when the pair got home and washed the child’s arms, they would be very smooth.
The thought made me giggle. Hopefully, they would have a laugh after as well.
For a moment I rested my head on Baxter’s back and closed my eyes, taking in a deep breath. He constantly had this earthy musk to him. It was horrible to smell, and worse when he was damp, but always seemed to calm me. His heavy panting overpowered the rumble of the city street that was heightened from the sound of the rain. The rain wasn’t forecasted so many city walkers hadn't brought umbrellas with them on their lunch break. Nobody liked to wear wet clothes, so there was a lot of scrambling for shelter. I nuzzled my face further into my dog’s neck basking in the calmness provided, careful to not ruin my hair.
My eyes shot open with fright, as a thick, wet glop hit the side of my head. A heavy chemical smell made my eyes water. I reached up and felt the half of my head was covered in glop. It had come from the direction of the child. I looked at them from the corner of my eye, a smirk covered their face. Before I could say anything, the bus came and the pair left, along with the hair that had taken my sister and mum 6 months to ‘make perfect’.
The rain eased up and I walked home with a shocked smile on my face. Mark was on the couch, watching the news talk about the sudden rain when I walked in. Baxter jumped on him after being let off the leash. I said a quick hi to him when he turned to greet me. His eyes widen at what was on my hair. I rushed to the bathroom and got ready to have a shower. Mark knocked on the door.
“You okay? What happened to your hair?” I didn't answer. The feel of the warm water flowing through my hairsprayed bird’s nest was satisfying. A smile tugged at the corner of my mouth and I squealed when the first clumps of hair started to fall out. Mark banged on the door and called out panic clear in his voice. When the water ran clear I got out and wrapped myself in a towel. I opened the door to a distraught Mark, but I could only smile.
“Looks like I’ll have to cut my hair short again.” I walked to the mirror to see the damage. “I’m thinking of shaving the sides and leaving it long on top. Maybe long enough to braid it down my back?” Mark was stunned but nodded.
“I’ll get everything set up and you can call your mother.” He kissed my temple and walked away. I grinned at my reflection. Mark and I would be having the wedding that we wanted.
