Due to reader requests, I offer you now the photo documentation of my amazing transformation from regular, rather youngish looking, nearly natural blond “me,” to whatever you would call this creature (see below), leaving out the parts where I had a round brush stuck in the top of my head for 45 minutes. You can read more about my salon experience here, and if that description is not good enough for you, wait a few more days, because there are more details that I want to add, probably.
You will also find at the bottom of that post a photo of Chuck and me standing on the actual red carpet. We had just walked there from the hotel, only one block away, and it was only then that I wondered if maybe I should have worn the flip-flops after all.
If I could do it all over again, I would at a minimum get practice walking in high-heeled shoes, especially downhill, not that anyone noticed me grabbing onto the cement wall for support.
I would also not wear a dress quite as long, as people kept standing on it. It was clear that they just wanted to stand close to me — believe me, this happens to me all the time — but given the ambience of the festivities, which were almost spiritual, I felt it would not be in my best interest to yell, as I am wont to do most other times, “Just give me my space! Stop following me!”
This is because this exclamation normally gets me kicked out of places, and that was not a risk I was willing to take, not now. I learned to just hike up my dress with my hands. It’s not nearly as unattractive as you might think.
Well, as you might notice in these amazing before and after photos, that this transformation was quite the undertaking.
Something that I thought was funny was that when I posted the “before” shot to my friends on facebook, I purposely waited several minutes before posting the “after” shot, to build up the anticipation. Apparently, not everyone understood that there was more coming, and thought that my “before” shot was actually what I was going to wear to the Oscars. And yet, showing blind love, they still left encouraging comments.
This was a shocker, and caused me to reflect upon myself thusly: Is this what you really think of me? D0 you really think I’d wear a tank top to the Oscars? Can’t you give me some credit? Do you really believe that’s all I got?
I did not let this moment of paranoia impact my emotional well being, as Chuck and I had a red carpet to walk down, with a thousand other people.
Chuck said it reminded him a lot of a triathlon. You’ve got your spectator areas, athlete areas, all demarked with cyclone fences, and volunteers pointing you to go in the right direction.
The big question in my mind was, Do I wear my Rudy Project sunglasses?
I leave this as a tip, should you ever find yourself in this Oscar condundrum: when in doubt, just tune into the Oscars pre-show on the tv. Copy what you see them doing.
Nobody wears sunglasses. Isn’t that interesting? I never thought about that before.
Coming up sooner or later: Jennifer Lopez and her booty that I did not notice, but Chuck did; Matt Damon, whom Chuck saw and I did not; and Oscar appetizers: better than chicken wings? Stay tuned for more!