Marriage has helped me become more vulnerable. To be precise, I've completely passed over the vulnerability stage and into the uncharted realm of obscenity. Mom will be so proud.
Me: "I'm embarrassed... I am getting a huge zit."
Darin: "That's okay, I get 'em all the time. We can be Pimple Pals."
I would further this thread if I was assured that only females read this blog, but as many of my readers are friends of the male species (I love yins) and gross old men with a taste for saucy brunettes (stop calling me), my hands are tied. Moving on...
I don't really care what any other human being thinks of me except my husband. He is the only one who has ever heard the ridiculous phrase, "Do I look fat?" pass through my lips. Only he has to reassure me that I am attractive, intelligent, unique, and amusing. I just assume that everyone else feels the same way; if they don't, I'll make sure to forget the fact.
Speaking of fat nudity, Darin set up a massage appointment for me tomorrow morning!
I have never received a professional massage before. All previous massages have been from loving amateurs:
My brother Dave- "This is a good one, Chew. I call this... THE DEATH GRIP!!!" I cry.
Megen- "Lou, you're soooo tense!" She repeats this phrase throughout the massage, defeating its purpose.
Erica- "Schmeeeeeez... [insert little made-up song]"
Indignant Darin- "Two minutes is more than enough!"
Mona- A ten-minute hand massage to prep me for a tough night of paper writing.
Mandy- "Walking on the back is good for you!"
Justin- "Are you sure Darin won't come in?"
That androgynous hobo on the bus- I don't want to talk about it.
Although I am entering into a new stage in life's twisting journey, please know that I will not reject you, nor your offers to manipulate my tissues. Until then.