I really struggled over the title of this post. First I wanted to call it: Why yes, I DO curl my hair to go to Home Depot, thank you very much. But crap, that was way too long. Then I thought, how about: You’re an idiot, go back to chivalry school. But then my readers would think I was talking to them instead of DH.
Then, it hit me. The topic of this post is one of those “Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus” things that
raise holy hell make relationships interesting. Of course, by now you’ve guessed I’m talking about a woman’s vanity… armaments… process of getting ready. Well, sorta.
It all started one night last week when DH and I had a couple of kid-free hours to run a few errands. After supper I scampered into the bathroom to “freshen up.” All of a sudden he schleps around the corner and gives me The Look.
Girls, please tell me you know what I’m talking about. You know, the one where your partner makes you feel like you’re being ridiculous/absurd/foolish. Well, The Look was accompanied by: “You don’t have to curl your hair to go to the hardware store, you know. I’ll be outside.”
Alrighty then. Did I reply to his retreating form? Negative. Was I talking in my head? Oh, man…
My middle school meltdown went something like this: DUH! I know I don’t have to. I want to. Got a problem with that, knuckle-dragger? Why do I even bother anyway? Would you even notice if I went to the hardware store wearing hole-in-the-crotch sweatpants, bird’s nest hair, and boogers hanging out my nose?
And so it went. Obviously, not one of my finer moments. But at least the immaturity was contained in my own head.
My choices at that point were either to cease and desist the curling and bide my time to deliver the lesson (that would be his lesson, not mine. I’m such a bitch.) – OR – keep curling my hair and make him wait. And wait and wait and wait.
The problem with the second option is that he’s probably the most patient person I’ve ever known, so even if I squandered our entire allotted kid-free time, he’d just raise an eyebrow and say we could always get the stuff later.
So, alas and alack, I unplugged the iron (notice in Exhibit A that one side of my hair is noticeably curlier) and calmly made my way to the mudroom where I sat on the bench to put on my shoes, thinking, how I can work this into a teachable moment? When all of a sudden, in walks HE and says, “You look nice.”
Bada Bing. He steals my thunder every damn time. I’m such a sucker. Immediately all my irritation floated away like fluffy cumulus clouds on a breezy summer day. He’s so lucky. (And if I’m honest, I gotta say, me too, because it takes a huge mental effort for me to stay mad for any length of time.)
But…. He needed to learn from his initial mistake, right? So I said (in the sauciest voice I could muster): “I may curl my hair to buy paver stones, but at least I’m not letting myself go.”
“Good reminder,” he conceded, nodding oh-so-seriously. I’m 99% sure he wasn’t laughing in his head. Especially because he reiterated in the car on the way home how much he loves having one of the hottest wives ever to grace the aisles of Home Depot. (Okay, those aren’t exactly his words, but clearly that’s what he meant. It had to be. I mean, right? I helped him load the freaking pavers.).
That’s right, chickies. At least he knows who swaggers in this marriage.
What about y’all? Where do you fall on the “getting ready” scale? Are you a don’t leave the house to get the mail without my makeup kinda girl or do you identify with The Rockin’ People of Wal-Mart?