dressed to kill

When the Hubbs and I were first together, he would have worn basketball shorts and sneakers to a wedding.  I’m not sure if it’s a complete lack of understanding when it comes to what not to wear or if it’s a stubborn refusal to give a shit what other people think.  I’m  betting it’s a bit of both.

Aside from his incessant need to shower and change underwear 3 times a day, he is as far from metro-sexual as one can get.  And no, I am not exaggerating about the obsessive hygiene.  He has issues.   And 47 pairs of undies.

After nine years of dressing the man, the amount of screaming matches we have over whether or not the crazy-ass ensemble he’s put together is indeed appropriate has decreased dramatically.  In fact, most of the time we go out, he looks pretty hot without my assistance.  Last night; however,  was a very different story.

A couple of friends were having a night on the town for their birthday.  It was one of those unique times we get to go out without kids, and I had been upstairs for about an hour and a half relishing this uncommon opportunity to shave and buff and primp and beautify.  This is a rare thing for me.  I’m a pretty low maintenance gal.  If I have clean hair and make-up on, it’s a good day.  If I remember to brush my teeth too, it’s freaking fabulous.

So, I come downstairs from my beauty salon experience and find the Hubbs still in his (you guessed it) basketball shorts and freaking ugly softball shoes (they are supposedly very comfortable.)  I already let him go with me to Walmart dressed like this today, but what the hell?  He fit right in- we all know the trashy folk that frequent Wally World.  So, I nicely say, “Hey babe, can you go get dressed so we can leave as soon as the sitter gets here?”  {See, that sounded nice and sweet, right?!}

So then he’s riffling through a pile of t-shirts (that I have been putting off folding for about 3 days) and I say, “What are you looking for?”

And he innocently and completely obliviously replies, “A t-shirt that goes with these shorts.”

Me:  [losing the sweet and innocent tone and jumping straight to crazy bitch]  Are you fucking kidding me?  Look at me!  Does this outfit look like  someone that wants to be seen with Mr. Fucking Basketball Shorts and Softball Shoes?

Hubbs [sounding completely dumbfounded and stupid and overall just PISSED]:  Well, wha,  uh, duh, buh.  YAH.

Me:  I mean for godsakes, I just spend an hour and a half to look  HOT and you’re going to fucking wear THAT? Do you even want to GO?  Is that what the problem is here?

Hubbs:  [Marches up the stairs and mumbles something, who-really-cares-what?]

Me:  [Marches up the stairs after him.  NOT losing momentum because I am clearly going to win this fight.]  Are you going to answer me?  Do you just not want to go to this thing or are you just freaking stupid?  Oh, and I’m sorry for snapping at you like that but…seriously, what the fucking shit?!  I mean, really?  Uh.  Gah. UH!  GAH!!!!

Hubbs:  [something that sounded like]  Blah, blah, blah… I’m always right and you are just an over-reacting bitch 99.9% of the time.

[but was probably more like]  Whatever, crazy.  I’m changing my clothes.  Stop bitching at me and let’s just go.  We’re not going to have to speak to one another for the rest of the night anyway.

[and then says in his head, “besides… you’re going to drink too much tonight and I’m still going to get lucky anyway so this whole argument is just a waste of time, and who really cares who the winner is?  I can wear whatever I want, I’m just changing so you’ll shut the hell up.”]

Followed by a good half hour of my saying, “Are you really not still mad at me?” and other pointless crap, and him saying,”whatever… it’s over,” [and I’ll just hold your major freak out over your head sometime when it will really benefit me]

Then we went out and had a fantastic time.

{and almost got shot in the head at some bar fight, but that’s for another day.  seriously, we did almost get shot.   I mean, practically… Well, there was a bar fight.  And we were there. You never know what can happen in this crazy town.}

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4 thoughts on “dressed to kill

  1. I know EXACTLY how you feel!!!! Just because the basketball shorts are Jordan and cost half our grocery budget doesn’t mean they qualify for “nice outfit”!!!!

    • Thanks Thaydra! I’m trying… the writer’s block just will NOT go away. I think I’m too stressed over the whole thing. Let me know if you remember anything else that happened that I should write about. 🙂
      (And you have to admit, I looked smokin hot and deserved to be mad, huh?)

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