So I was innocently sitting at my computer, concocting the latest fantastical career plans (like gettting a Master's in Divinity online—really, not joking), when my husband approached me with a kiss and said, "You look so nice today! I love your outfit."
Besides being flattered, I was seriously thrown off. "Thanks," I said (trying not to have an inner bully), but I soon thereafter replied, "Wait, do I normally dress like crap?" (I know, I know....just let it lie, Alex.)
He said, "No, you just look nice today." Okay, so I'm wearing a black tank top, jeans, a pair of Tom's shoes, and this pearlish/emerald kind of necklace I received as a bridesmaid's gift like five years ago. Huh.
Since this conversation, it's occurred to me that despite my efforts to dress, shall I say...well (?), (and I won't say best efforts, because that's a flat-out lie), I may have been missing the mark. Looks like those khaki shorts and polo shirts aren't really cutting the mustard on the attraction scales.
But here's the thing: who really dresses up during the day, I wonder? I dress when we go out to dinner or anywhere at night. But, I mean, I didn't think it really mattered what I wore to go to the grocery store or to sit in my backyard while my son touches the car tires repeatedly. Apparently, maybe it does. I guess my husband DOES take notice.
Gulp. Note to self: make more effort.
So I go into my closet and it's immediately apparent—I have, like, no clothes. All the clothes I wore pre-pregnancy simply don't fit my distorted body anymore. I'm not saying I'm fat. I'll say I'm "misshapen." Total Funhouse Mirrors body. And the clothes that do fit? Well, I've had them for at least six years, minimum, and I can assure you they're snoozers to my husband, who has seen them all about 50 times.
Oy, what's a girl to do... go shopping? Ugh. Hate.
The funny part of this story is, as I write this, I've already changed out of the "cute" outfit, because I worked out while my son napped. As I sit here writing, I'm in an oversized t-shirt that reads "Careful, or You'll End Up in My Novel" (again, not kidding), and some black running shorts with a pink stripe running down the side. So much for being a looker! I just couldn't keep that going for more than the morning.
Yikes. I think I better go change back before the spouse gets home. Maybe I should take the hint: my husband notices when I make an effort!