This is going to be what Larry calls one of my BM&C moments, where I Bi+ch, Moan and Complain.
I’ve been married for 30 years to the love of my life. Most days are good...some, eh...not so good. But in the great scheme of Marital Bliss, no one ever tells you that love will come back one day to whack you upside the head.
I now firmly believe women need a marital clause for those times when homicidal thoughts are justified.
Take, for example, body weight. I have dealt with a weight problem my entire life. From Chubby Girl fashions straight through to Full-figured Woman, I've fought that battle on a daily basis. Some decades I’m fine; my BMI is normal and all is right with the world. But lately, I’d need to gain a few more inches to level it out...say, 6’11”? Consider that over the last two years, I’ve lost (and re-gained) the same 20 pounds.
Yet look at my husband. When he had major back surgery, the doctor recommended losing some weight to reduce the stress on his spine. Without a complaint, he stopped eating his nightly bedtime snack of olives, cheese, crackers and nuts and started eating an apple spread with peanut butter.
He lost 30 pounds without blinking an eye.
Okay. Maybe life's not so fair.
Consider how the decades have ravaged the fresh young face my husband married. Eyebrows thin and fade, skin dissolves into wrinkles and eyelashes become non-existent. I accept this as part of that “growing old together” pabulum they feed you.
But look at my husband. The medication he takes for glaucoma has darkened and thickened his already beautiful eyelashes while his skin looks like a pampered baby’s bottom due to lucky genes. Meanwhile, I struggle to mascara my four remaining lashes and am reduced to spackling on concealer.
Consider the universally-known postulate that “a body in motion on vacation must gain weight.” I, of course, was dutifully fulfilling my role during our September trip to New Mexico with fresh guacamole, margaritas and sopapillas. Imagine my reaction when Larry turned to me and said: “Wow, I’ve lost 10 pounds on this trip!”
Please. Imagine my reaction.
But I reached my breaking point a few weeks ago when he turned to me and said—in all sincerity: “Is there any way to trim eyelashes? Mine are getting so long they’re hitting my glasses.”
Ladies, feel free to line up for jury selection.
I’ve been married for 30 years to the love of my life. Most days are good...some, eh...not so good. But in the great scheme of Marital Bliss, no one ever tells you that love will come back one day to whack you upside the head.
I now firmly believe women need a marital clause for those times when homicidal thoughts are justified.
Take, for example, body weight. I have dealt with a weight problem my entire life. From Chubby Girl fashions straight through to Full-figured Woman, I've fought that battle on a daily basis. Some decades I’m fine; my BMI is normal and all is right with the world. But lately, I’d need to gain a few more inches to level it out...say, 6’11”? Consider that over the last two years, I’ve lost (and re-gained) the same 20 pounds.
Yet look at my husband. When he had major back surgery, the doctor recommended losing some weight to reduce the stress on his spine. Without a complaint, he stopped eating his nightly bedtime snack of olives, cheese, crackers and nuts and started eating an apple spread with peanut butter.
He lost 30 pounds without blinking an eye.
Okay. Maybe life's not so fair.
Consider how the decades have ravaged the fresh young face my husband married. Eyebrows thin and fade, skin dissolves into wrinkles and eyelashes become non-existent. I accept this as part of that “growing old together” pabulum they feed you.
But look at my husband. The medication he takes for glaucoma has darkened and thickened his already beautiful eyelashes while his skin looks like a pampered baby’s bottom due to lucky genes. Meanwhile, I struggle to mascara my four remaining lashes and am reduced to spackling on concealer.
Consider the universally-known postulate that “a body in motion on vacation must gain weight.” I, of course, was dutifully fulfilling my role during our September trip to New Mexico with fresh guacamole, margaritas and sopapillas. Imagine my reaction when Larry turned to me and said: “Wow, I’ve lost 10 pounds on this trip!”
Please. Imagine my reaction.
But I reached my breaking point a few weeks ago when he turned to me and said—in all sincerity: “Is there any way to trim eyelashes? Mine are getting so long they’re hitting my glasses.”
Ladies, feel free to line up for jury selection.