Rocky III: The Bride

My Wedding Day

On Thursday, I posted a lot of pictures of me growing up.  And on the very last one, my wedding day with the hubs, I briefly mentioned a swollen face.  Since I have nothing new to say and I’m going to be visiting Big Bro & Co today (YAY!!!), I’ll leave you with another sliver of my past. 

Thursday Before The Wedding

I went to get my eyebrows waxed.  I had gone months before to make sure that my face was ok with having shreds of paper swimming in wax being ripped off and it was.  The trial run was perfect: no bleeding, no redness, no nothing but perfect eyebrows.  The real thing was essentially perfect: no bleeding, a little redness but overall perfect for the big day on Saturday.  Thank you, Meredith the Torturer.

Friday Before The Wedding

Mom and I go to get our nails done at the salon.  I’m a nail-biter – and it sucks and I hate it but every time I try to stop something “critical” is going on and I chomp them off.  But I had managed to grow my nails to a very lovely length for the wedding.  Not a lot of stress when you only have one class. 

So anyway, we’re getting our nails done.  And my hairdresser, Kim, who is a cool chica noticed my little red eyebrows.  “Brooke, I have some wonderful French cream that will take out the redness and relax you.  It’s that good.”  Kim proceeded to massage my face (my muscles went limp just thinking about it) with this French cream.  It was lovely.

That evening, we go to the church, do the run through, get some grub at Ferd Grisanti and then I makeout with the hubs in the parking lot.  Because I was marrying him the next day… and was a bit tipsy.

Saturday – The Wedding Day

I wake up to the smell of sausage and pancakes.  Hoowah!  DAd cooked a kickass breakfast!  As I open my eyes – oh crap, my eyes weren’t opening.  So I touched them.  They felt like goo.  MY EFFING EYES WERE SWOLLEN SHUT!

I rolled out of the bed and stumbled into the bathroom, ever so gingerly did I rub my eyes with a wash cloth.  And when I was finally able to open one eye just a little, it was confirmed.  I looked like Rocky after he kicked that Russians ass.  Actually, I might have looked more like the Russian but it’s my story and Rocky is cooler and I’m going with Rocky.  I looked like Rocky.  My eyes were as puffy as marshmallows.  I started to cry and then stopped.  This is OK, Brooke.  Just go down and find Mom.

I get down stairs and the pancakes smell so good.  DAd is waltzing around the kitchen singing his Caterbury Tales in a horrible Italian accent because he thinks it makes him “Italianino”.  (Welcome to my life.)  “DAd?”  As he turns around, he’s happy and light-hearted and then he sees my face.

“Whoa!  What in the…?”

[I start welling up because it is as bad  as I thought.]  “I don’t know.  I woke up like this.”

“Hold on – let me get the camera.”

“NO!!!!  Are you nuts!  We do not need a picture of this!!”

Enter Mom stage left – my saving grace – who immediately makes me stop crying – “You’ll make it worse.”  OK.  Done.  No more tears.  And then she made icepacks for me to wear on my face.  Moms are good like that, no?  They don’t try to abandon you to retrieve a camera. 

Unfortunately, this turn of events did not affect my appetite for pancakes.  So I ate, showered, got dressed and headed back to the salon to get my goldilocks did.  But walking into a salon with two bags of ice on your face is not normal.  And Kim almost lost it because she put two and two together: swollen face and French cream.  I really think we can throw “nerves” in the mix like the cherry on top because I had experienced some nerve-racking things over the week but yes, the French cream brought out the Rocky in me.

Kim did my hair as I sat with my icepacks.  “Brooke, we’ll fix this.  Promise.  The make-up girl will be here any minute and she’ll fix this.  Promise.”  And the make-up girl did.  The swelling went down a lot and with the use of shadows, I looked halfway normal.  My eyes weren’t as puffy but my forehead still had some water on it.  I know, it sounds so gross but this was my wedding day, how do you think I felt?

I leave, get dressed, take pictures, get married, kiss the hubs, eat dinner, cut cake and dance.  That’s when I overhear DAd talking to some of my friends. 

“Isn’t my baby beautiful?  I just can’t believe how pretty she looks today… ”  Awe, thanks DAd.  “…but you should have seen this morning!  Her eyes were as big as oranges like someone had socked her in the face!”  Boo DAd, boo.  I am so glad I stopped him from taking pictures because you know he would have gone to the 1-hour photo place and been showing people my Quasimodo face that night. 

After The Wedding

So we don’t know exactly why my face conspired against me on our wedding day.  There are a handful of things that could have done it:

  • the French cream
  • the eyebrow waxing
  • my nerves
  • the fact that Mom stuck an earring in my ear Friday and the last time I put an earing in my ear everything started itching
  • my meanness coming out

The puffiness stuck around for two weeks; I woke up every morning with puffy eyes and had a puffy forehead throughout the day.  Anti-itch cream was my best-friend.  I don’t put random crap on my face in fear that this will happen again.  And I carry anti-itch cream in my purse just in case this ever happens again.  But this is a completely true story.  Well, some of the dialogue may be different, I mean this did happen almost six years ago.  But everything is in context. 

My only wish is that no bride has to go through this because it’s your day to look beautiful.  And I looked like a  glove met my face a few times.  In the words of wise man named DAd “This will build some character.”  How’s that for a silver lining.

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~ by shutterboo on January 16, 2010.

3 Responses to “Rocky III: The Bride”

  1. You did look beautiful. It must be something about weddings. On my wedding day, actually week, I had to deal with the flu. The stomach kind. Yeah. It was pleasant.

    • I know there are always going to be hiccups when you plan something as big as a wedding. But I didn’t expect anything to happen to my face. Glad it’s over!

  2. Well I was there and didn’t notice. And I like to think I’m pretty observant. It could have been worse. A cook could have shot a bartender at masterson’s during your rehearsal dinner, which happened after a “rehearsal” that took place on the corner of 4th and Magnolia because the guy that was supposed to open the church door got the time messed up. Oh and you could have OCD while all this is going on.

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