Day 4 – Tuesday

We got up early after only a few hours of sleep in order to get to the clerk's office to get our marriage license. There was a clerk's office just a mile from Shannon's house. She told us it was a satellite office and there was never anyone there. She even told us how to find the marriage license window, which was helpful since I wouldn't have figured it out. It was nothing like when I went to get my birth certificate. We walked right up to an open window; no line. There were 3 old ladies in there processing birth certificates and marriage licenses. It took just a few minutes and we were set. Unbelievable. DH just reminded me that something funny did happen at the window. For some reason he was surfing the web on his phone and not paying attention. I kept trying to kick him or glare at him to remind him that we were in a courthouse, and besides, he should pay attention and act like he wants to marry me. I finally got him to put his phone away when the clerk went to go over our license with us. There was a space for us to sign our names, and knowing this was a legal matter that had to be properly witnessed, I waited to be directed to sign. But not DH. He grabbed a pen and started signing his name, while the clerk protested, “but you have to swear first!” DH just said, “yeah, yeah, I swear” and continued to sign his name while I continued kicking him under the table. We finally got to make our declarations and sign and the clerk accepted it...

Tuesday afternoon I had an appointment with the stylist to do a trial run. My head was measured for hair extensions and then she proceeded to do my makeup. I won't mention her name because the results were terrible. I told her what I had in mind. Red lips, but otherwise something very natural. And I didn't want to look like a 37-year-old bride. She said no problem. She worked very close to my face, and when she laughed, I could smell pot. I sighed, in my head, though I decided that she should still be capable of applying makeup in that state. Someone told me later that was true, but it probably also put her in a really creative mood. She put on fake eyelashes and spent a lot of time drawing on my eyes. Airbrushed my face. Penciled in my lips. Then I looked in the mirror. I was the furthest thing from “natural” that I could imagine. I had cat eyes, glitter under my eyes, a fake tan, and the lips were uneven. I politely asked her to take off the eyeliner. And then the glitter. When I got back to my sister's house, I could tell everyone was as disappointed with the look as I was. And to make it worse, by 7pm the makeup had pooled and cracked. I emailed the stylist and told her I would still buy the hair extensions but that I would be doing my own makeup. She asked me for a second chance, and I agreed. I didn't care much about the makeup anymore. I was now terrified that the hair extensions wouldn't match my hair color.