This morning I woke up very early. It was my second wedding in two weeks and I was especially excited about it.

I wanted everything to be just right, so I set about getting as much done as I could before I left the house.

As I caught a glance of myself in the mirror, I noticed that my hair was faded and the roots were showing. I made the decision then to go ahead and dye it so that I could look my best at the wedding.

Earlier in the week I had purchased some dye that I thought would do the trick.

You see, I love dying my hair red.

I love it a lot.

Since the year before my junior year in high school, I have had some tint of red in my hair. My best friend Kim started doing it for me…and she continues to do it to this day.

But, Kim has been suffering a lot lately with horrible headaches and hospitalizations, so I knew I would have to do it myself.

Of course, I didn’t mind. I’ve done it myself for years, too.

But there was just one problem.

A few months ago, they stopped making my hair color.

What?!?!

I know.

Ever since then, it has been impossible for me to find the fabulous color I enjoy most. Nothing else has quite matched it.

One evening, though, as Kim and I sat in the choir loft, she told me she thought she’d found something very similar. And so in September, when we dyed my hair, she used this new alternative she had found.

And it was great.

So, this time, I just texted her and asked what kind it was.

She texted back the brand name almost immediately.

Somehow, though, I forgot to ask the color.

And as I stood in Target, I realized I wasn’t going to remember exactly what it was.

I’m not sure if it was apathy, laziness, or the fact that Kim had patches over both eyes that led to me to just choose some strange color on my own.

I thought it would be okay.

How hard could it be, I thought?

This day, though, as I mixed the bottle solutions, I noticed the result was an awfully strange concoction. The consistency did not seem right. The color did not seem right.

But what did I know? I had never tried this brand by myself before.

And so, I squeezed it all over my head.

And almost immediately I noticed that the color was not pleasant. Nor was it natural. Even after I rinsed it out, it still looked remarkably absurd.

I couldn’t quite place my finger on what I thought it resembled, so I called it radioactive orange.

And somehow, in my attempt to look decent, I ended up at the bride’s front door with hair that was truly awful.

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This day, I spent 13 hours shooting a wedding celebration from beginning to end.

And though the morning presented opportunities for problem solving, it went really well overall.

First I photographed the bride and her bridesmaids getting ready at her home.

Then I ran to the country club to take photos of the prepared reception area before the guests arrived.

Then it was to the church where I stood waiting to photograph the ceremony itself.

As I stood in the back of the sanctuary, I snapped shots of the wedding party coming down the aisle.

Mothers and fathers of the couple.

Flower girls.

Ring bearer.

Bridesmaids.

Groomsmen.

And then.

The bride.

As she turned the corner and swept into the sanctuary, something hit her. Something amazing. It was like she had been punched in the stomach with realization.

Or maybe it was like I had been punched in the stomach with realization.

And she began to cry.

And I caught my breath and almost felt like I was going to cry.

As she walked down the aisle, to her waiting groom, I knew that she was happy.

And I was happy, too.

Because she is kind of like me.

She has been married before. She has a child who is similarly aged to Em. And she has found someone who makes her so happy she can’t help but cry.

In a good way.

And I couldn’t help but think that if she could find someone like that, then maybe one day I could, too.

And then I thought about how my hair was kind of the color of Spaghetti-o’s.

And then I took some more pictures.

And the rest of this day went sort of like that.