The Price Of Vanity

‘Always a bridesmaid and never a bride’ – I wish. Momo eloped, the Italian Stallion went common law and L.S.C. had such a quaint wedding that a large wedding party was out of the question. Granted, I was an usher at my brother’s wedding, where I almost passed out from the heat, but other than that, and for the foreseeable future, I have had, or will have, little to do with weddings. Other than being a guest.

Today was one such occasion and I was determined to make the best of it. One of my co-workers was getting married this weekend and myself, four others, and guests, (aside from solo moi) made up a table. You know, the ‘work table’, the one next to the kitchen and/or toilets, furthest away from the head table and last to be served. At least we were close to the bar and it was open! I needed it after today.

Sidebar - I continue to be dismayed by the lack of excitement formal occasions garner these days. Wearing a suit and tie to a wedding, graduation or funeral is just common sense but the more such events I attend, the fewer and fewer people I see dressed for the occasion. I went to a funeral once for a lady I used to work for and her own grandson was in a track suit! I mean really now. I digress.

This was to be a formal affair so I started the day with a manicure and pedicure. I soaked my feet in the tub and started to push back cuticles with sticks and trim them with cutters. Realizing I forgot the toe nail clippers I stood up to get them. I later awoke in a pool of blood discovering that my head had come in contact with the medicine cabinet door that I left open. Leaving cupboards and drawers open is a bad habit that I hope I am now cured of. The cabinet in question is a 1940’s utilitarian medicine cabinet – square, sharp edges, metal. It was Psycho meets The Talented Mr. Ripley. I was on the bathroom floor (granted the Psycho carnage took place IN the bathtub) with blood pouring from my head like Jude Law after Matt Damon cracked him with the paddle.

I quickly applied a cotton pad soaked with Clinique cleansing solution in an attempt to prevent infection and stop the flow, but alas, it was all in vain. As soon as I pressed the cotton pad to my forehead it was soaked through with blood. Naturally I assumed I could stop it myself and applied ever thicker layers of cotton pads and toilet paper. Feeling rather light headed I decided some stitches might be in order and made my way to Lucy (my car) and headed off to a walk-in clinic. As my sight was somewhat blurred with blood, I managed to take the driver’s side mirror off and narrowly miss caving in the entire side of my precious motor vehicle. I park in an underground lot you see, with concrete pillars all about.

My stylish new haircut left me a few millimeters short of being able to comb over the wound so I had attend the wedding trying to explain to people how I had sustained such an injury. Was it a bar fight, a car accident, or perhaps a mugging? No, I am afraid it is the result of one of the many dangers of a home based pedicure.