Luckily my my mother-in-law to be, Pauline, used to be a hairdresser. So I've roped her in to help me with my hair on the day. She's also very kindly trimming my ends as I grow it down for the big day, which is saving me a small fortune. And this weekend we decided to practice some wedding day styling ideas.
Now the problem with my hair is that it's incredibly fine and wispy - sort of like a cross between kitten hair and cobwebs. Oh and it's also blessed with loads of weird kinks and bends, and sort of wants to curl, but only in a half-hearted way. As a kid I wished for long, thick tumbling tresses, and tried all sorts of tricks to make it feel big and lustrous, from sleeping in plaits to crimping the life out of it. Both experiments left me looking a more like a second hand scarecrow. For years I have put up with hairdressers disappointingly picking up strands of my hair between thumb and forefinger, and mumble that it's not ideal but a good blunt cut might help. Sigh.
So I have been nervous about how my hair will perform on the day. It's kitten-like softness means that hair clips, grips and pins all just slide out and any of my own attempts at styling turn instantly to frizz at the merest whiff of dampness. I can create the sleekest, bounciest hair do and feel as though I have finally achieved that sodding Cheryl Cole 'because you're worth it' hair-smugness, but I only have to stand next to a running tap and the whole 'do' instantly wilts, droops then gradually bends in random directions until I resemble Russell Brand on a bad day. What I need is some sort of hair viagra for my flaccid follicles.
So. With this knowledge in mind, me and my MIL-to-be trundled off to a very large branch of Boots and armed ourselves with a mountain of velcro rollers, extra firm hold mousse, a bucket of Elnett, everything we could see that said Big Volume and various pins, clips and hair scaffolding equipment. By god we were on a mission.
Back at the salon (her kitchen) she trimmed the ends and set about smothering my hair in mousse and winding in the rollers. I quickly realised this is a skill in itself. My previous attempts have been somewhat kack-handed - I'd have probably done a better job if I'd just stuck my head in a pile of rollers, rolled around and hoped some of them stick.
So after blasting my head with heat and allowing everything to cool, (and after I'd ponced about in the mirror pretending I was in a 1950's photoshoot and doing impressions of Hilda Ogden) we whipped them out.
And oh my word it was like a miracle had occurred.
My hair was enormous. I looked like Bonnie Tyler in a wind tunnel. In a good way though. Suddenly we had something to play with. Suddenly there was hope that a clip would go in - and stay there. Suddenly I felt like had real hair instead of bumblebee fluff.
But panic not. I don't intend to be one of these brides who turns up with a completely different and slightly dated hair-do that looks like it would be better suited on an extra in Dynasty. No, I just want a bit of oomph to ensure that my 'up-do' looks like an effortless, but rather sophisticated gathering of tousled tresses rather than a brown swimming cap. And that's exactly what we achieved. What a relief. Thank you Pauline.
If I wasn't on a sodding wedding diet I'd have a celebratory glass of wine, really I would.
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