Ok, not really.
While we were there he wanted to run and try on and pick up some jeans. He grabbed a pair and ran to the dressing room just to get a quick gauge of where to go from there.
He came out of the dressing room looking a little distraught. The jeans didn’t fit. They were too tight.
The look on his face said it all. Depression. Self-hate. Why? WHY?! WHY!!!
All I told him was, “Welcome to my world.” He finally knew what it felt like to be a woman and something NOT FIT PROPERLY.
I soothed him by telling him what I would have wanted to hear, “It was probably just the cut of the jean that made them tight.”
He also reacted like every woman I know. Instead of going home and running or working out he got a $10 container of pistachios, cashews, and peanuts. Now that’s my kind of (wo)man!
Now let’s see…how fat is my husband?
Yeah, exactly. Not fat at all. I would still kill for his legs. Is that a weird thing to say?
Speaking of not fat and fat…