When my overly annoying alarm clock woke me from my slumber this morning, at 9am this morning, I didn't groan like usual. I turned it off and almost jumped out of bed and into the bathroom, switched the shower on and leaned into my mirror, inspecting my skin for any imperfection.
Happy with my complexion I climbed into the shower and let the hot water loosen my tired muscles. I instantly felt refreshed as I prepared for the upcoming day of wedding festivities. I'm not going to the wedding of a school friend or a family member, oh no. I'm attending and absolute and utter stranger's big day. I will be sat in the crowd as they make their vows to each other, then I will hopefully entertain their guests at the reception. It's kind of my job, a wedding singer.
I stepped out the shower after 10 minutes and stood in front of the mirror once more, thinking about Greg Horan and Denise Kelly. I'd heard the last name Horan before, but I don't remember ever meeting one. The only contact I'd ever had with a Horan was a phone call with Greg's brother, Niall and a few emails from him, telling me he'd pick me up and drop me off home so I could have a drink, also, and what songs I should learn, even though I knew all of them already.
They were the stereotypical Wedding Songs, soppy, romantic and cheesy. I'd become accustomed to them, my voice sounded nice with them also. But when the wedding party found out that I wrote my own songs, they'd make me sing those, I'd always bring a list of songs I could sing with me if they don't give me a set list. But for this wedding, there was one.
I sighed at the sight of my hair hanging wet around my shoulders as I tightened the towel around my body. I grabbed the hair dryer and flicked it on, brushing through my front fringe (Bangs) and letting my hair curl into it's natural messy wave, promising myself I'd sort it out after I got dressed. I walked into my bedroom and checked my alarm clock.
9:29am
It blinked at me angrily, telling me to hurry up, as Mr Horan would be here to pick me up at 10:40. I pulled my wardrobe open and sighed once more. It seemed the only clothes I owned were fancy dresses. Well I suppose when you attend weddings for a living, you've got to have something nice to wear. I scanned the bright colours and the subtle pastels of the dresses, picking a Fuchsia/purple sheath styled number, with a pair of darker purple kitten heels. I lay it out on my bed and returned to the bathroom to sort out my face and hair.
I turned my straighteners on and pulled my makeup bag out. I attacked the hair first, running the straighteners over it and curling them slightly at the ends, I pulled them through my fringe and turned them off, happy with the light shine it's been given. I grabbed a bobby pin and pushed my fringe back, so my makeup wouldn't get in it as much.
I started with a light coat of foundation, covering the rose of my cheeks for now, then went onto the tiniest bit of eyeliner, mascara and then powder and blush. I don't think I do my make up in the 'correct' way, but it does the job, right? I unclasped my hair and let it fall over my face once more. Walking back into my bedroom, running my freshly painted fingers through my now soft hair. I looked at the dress and smiled, I loved the colour.
I pulled it up, not putting it over my hair in fear of pulling the light curls out. I struggled to do the zip, but finally got it up with a relieved puff of air. I examined the way it looked on my body and approved. I grabbed some clear tights out of the draw and pulled them on, trying not to pop a hole with my toe. My eyes flashed over to the clock once more.
10:20
Twenty minutes left, I used the time to text my aunt that I was going to work, picking a matching bag and grabbing my Gloverall Duffle coat that my aunt bought me for my 18th and waited patiently for the car to pull up.
