Weddings are lovely. Two people celebrating their love for one another. It’s the warm and fuzzy stuff You-Tube videos, accompanied by Bruno Mars singing “I think I wanna marry you” are made of. I buy into the whole thing! However, somewhere between the happiness I feel when the invitation hits, and the tears I will shed during the I do’s, there’s a moment of anything but happiness – a moment known to many as “the wardrobe-crisis”. I will take it a step further and call it the “wardrobe-hair-make-up-and-general-physical-appearance-crisis!”

This summer we had a wedding. It was a close family wedding, and on top of that it was my husband’s side of the family. There would be one hundred people I knew there. People I hadn’t seen for years, and who more importantly hadn’t seen me post babies! And I will blatantly admit that my female insecurities did not want people to say “she looks nice”, but rather something along the lines of “oh my gosh, can you believe she just had a baby!!?!!”

This is perhaps what led my sister-in-law and I to take things a bit further than new dresses. Unexpectedly the small countryside town, where the wedding was held, has a tanning salon offering airbrush spray tans. This is supposedly what gives Eva Longoria that perfect award-ceremony glow – a glow you do not naturally possess when you have three little ones in tow! And to make things better, I had read in a magazine, that it makes you look five pounds lighter – We were sold!

The small-town tanning salon, with its maroon wall-to-wall carpets and fluorescent lights, didn’t exactly resemble the Hollywood digs where I envision Eva Longoria getting her tan on. But never-the-less, we figured it could go one of two ways: Either we would resemble miss Longoria when we left the salon, or we would turn completely orange – which would still be okay, as long as the five-pounds lighter scenario applies to orange!

Clearly this isn’t the first time my vanity has brought me to attempt a fake tan. But this was my first time with an airbrush. The airbrush is a handheld device, operated by a trained professional. It shoots out a mist of tanning solution, and opposed to other methods, this personal treatment is supposed to ensure you a much more even and thoroughly applied tan – and let me tell you, this lady was thorough!

I’ll  walk you though my experience……

The attire for an airbrush spray tan is a shower-cap. Shower-caps are not the most flattering get-up – and in this cold room, under the fluorescent lights, neither was my birthday suit! I stepped into a small stall-like tent, where I was instructed into position, which meant spreading my legs and holding my arms straight out. I turned around, and to my horror, straight in front of me was a mirror!! I could think of very few people wanting to see them selves in this predicament – and I’m not one of them!

As I mentioned, the lady in charge was very thorough. There was bending and folding and holding of various body parts – all in perfect view of the mirror. It was a relief when it was time to turn around for the “other side”. For a moment I would say that I almost felt comfortable – that was until we started talking about kids, all whilst she was hunched down, very thoroughly spraying my legs, and said “you don’t look like you’ve had three kids”! I suddenly felt very vulnerable again!

It takes a few hours for the chemicals to work and for the tan to settle in. The solution contains something to make you look a bit bronzed right away though, and this initial color got us very excited! The horror of the mirror seemed to fade. Maybe we would look like an Italian and Scandinavian Eva Longoria after all (sister-in-law is Italian-American)! And we proudly paid a very reasonable small town fee for the whole thing! The whole nude experience seemed to have been worth while…….

When we reunited that afternoon the tanning agents had worked – truly worked! I’m afraid neither one of the scenarios we had thought up had proven to be correct. We were happily not orange, but we definitely did not look like Eva Longoria either! We were VERY bronzed! The best way to describe what we looked like would be Snookie and George Hamilton’s female counterpart! – I suppose a female version of George Hamilton would get an “oh my gosh, can you believe she just had a baby”, but perhaps not with the desired emphasis.

Thankfully some of the color faded in time for the wedding. Had the whole thing taken place on a Caribbean island, we might even have blended in. But in a northern location, on a rainy day, next to my in-laws of Irish decent – well, we stood out! vanity or not, I can’t help but smile at the failed attempt to look like celebrities. I would like to say, that this is the last time my vanity and a wardrobe-crises will bring me to make a hasty beauty-decision, but really, who would I be kidding?!?

We recently added four goldfish to the family. This turned out to be one of my less bright ideas. I was such a horrible fish owner that I managed to foster a depressed Goldfish, who ended up taking its own life!

Before PETA thinks to black-list me, I would like to mention, that I like animals very much and none of what happened to these fish was intentional…

The reason we ended up with fish in the first place was me! Growing up my greatest wish was a puppy (and pierced ears), but my parents had vetoed any notion of a pet long before I came along. I knew that in adulthood, when I had children of my own, I would live out my puppy dreams, and say yes the minute one of my children asked for a puppy. I thought such a moment was inevitable, since all children love puppies – however my children do not! They are mortified at the sight of all domesticated (and wild) animals.

And so for the past few years, we have had a completely reversed situation where I, the parent, have attempted to convince my oldest that puppies are great! I’ve shown her pictures, told her about other kids we know who have dogs, watched the movie Beethoven, I even considered acquiring Beverly Hills Chihuahua, but nothing has worked! I eventually swayed away from the puppy and started suggesting other pets – a cat? a bird? a hamster? a parrot? At the end she was quite annoyed with me!

But then it happened – she decided that she loves fish! She had seen The Cat In The Hat with the talking fish in the fishbowl, and decided THAT was the perfect pet. My hopes had been set a little higher than a goldfish, but after all my persistence I had to go with it…..

She was beyond excited! She picked out four of what I believe the fish-store-guy called Indonesian goldfish. She named them Ariel, Belle, Rapunzel and Giselle (obviously). She got a round fishbowl, just like the one in the cartoon, and a purple flower thingy for the bottom. From her stool she stood, looking down at the fish, with her arms embracing the fishbowl, saying “awww, little fish”, and “Raaaapunzeeeeel, come eat your foooood”! it was adorable! Life with fish was delightful…… at least for a few hours.

After about three hours of owning these fish Giselle was not looking too good! She was resembling a blow-fish more than a Goldfish. Both eyes popping out of her head and the scales standing straight out! At a closer glance all the fish were slightly odd-looking.

I tried to save her – I really did! I did everything my Google-searches suggested. I fed her peas, I found special drops to balance the water’s calcium content, I even bought “Fish medicine” – seriously. There was a picture of a fish dressed as a doctor on the container!

Giselle lasted about one week, and then she was upside-down at the bottom of the fishbowl!

My motherly insides squirming and my heart breaking. How do you tell something like that to a four-year-old, who that same morning, as she was running outside to play said “if my fish get sad or need me, then make sure you call me!”

I considered different approaches. I leaned towards disposing of the fish without telling her, but then again, she knows how to count to four, and I was stupid enough to get a breed of fish that comes in different colors, characterizing Giselle from the others. I finally decided to just tell her, and risk the chance of a deeper conversation about life and death. To my relief, she didn’t ask any great existential questions. Almost worse though, she ran over, looked at me intensely and said “WHY DID YOU LET MY FISH DIE!?”. As any other good mother would, I blamed the whole thing on someone else! I told her that the fish-store-guy had sold us sick fish!

Over the next few weeks the remaining fish all bit the dust. We left for vacation and the fish-sitter felt so bad about the one croaking on her watch, that she replaced it. This time we actually managed to trick my daughter, who upon arriving home just said “Why is Belle so ugly-looking!?”.

The fish-store-guy might really have sold us sick fish, because the new less attractive Belle never blew up like the others. However, perhaps due to the sad, empty fishbowl, with the smell of peas and fish medicine hanging over it, she got depressed. She stopped swimming and wouldn’t eat. It was a slow, dragged out suicide of self-starvation that lasted a whole month! It was almost a relief to finally see her floating at the top.

I still dream of a puppy! A sweet canine to join me on the couch when my husband travels – soft and cuddly. I can with confidence tell you, that there’s nothing sweet or cuddly about scales and gills! And a fish won’t protect me against no thief! However my efforts as a first time pet-owner have left me no closer to my childhood dream. If anything my failure to care for these fish have armed my husband with yet another argument against us getting a puppy.

Dec.2012. Follow up:
We have a new family member! Her name is Lady Gaga and she’s the most adorable Jack Russell you’ve ever seen.