The Feminist Bride: Hair

My normal beef with Hair isn't nearly enough to write a full length musical about- but since my engagement began, I've written enough mental songs about it to score an entire symphony.

Generally, I wear my 'do short. Pixie or bob, small bangs- close enough to my scalp to fit snugly under my signature beret and bike helmet combo. I've even rocked a spike look before- during a period my younger sister dubbed my 'lesbian phase'. Basically, I've gotten hair cuts that serve the purpose of being low-maintainance, fun, and passable on the professional scale.

I never thought that I would sacrifice my usual practical mix of form and function for a one day event. Until I became engaged. My hair was, I kid you not, the third thing I thought about after he said yes. The vain bride inside me vowed to not cut it until the wedding- in the hopes that I'd be able to make something out of it come the big day.

The Feminist Bride: Online

My internet has taken on a life of its own.

At my first search of 'engagement rings', it was over. I should have know that it would trigger an onslaught of well thought out advertisements perfectly aimed at my heart's desire.

Rings. Dresses. Wedding Labels. Invitations. Caterers in my area- the list goes on.

I couldn't turn on my computer without an overwhelmingly accurate bombardment of  advertising. Before I could even suggest that I might want to learn about shops in my area, they had lists for me.