Lately, M (my husband) has been looking good. Real good. There are a number of reasons for this:
- He still has a tan from our honeymoon
- This time last year, he was injured. Now, he’s mostly recovered – he was pallid for months
- Things are good with us, so I’m feeling in-love with him
When things aren’t so good, if I’m mad about something (which happens more frequently than I’d care to admit), I’ll think: “I don’t care how good he looks. I don’t even care if he lives or dies!” (I have a dramatic streak).
Unfortunately, I haven’t had one of those moments in a while.
In fact, because he’s been looking so good, I’ve been feeling uneasy. Usually, I don’t think about whether or not one of us is more attractive than the other. Lately, I’ve been worrying about the balance. I’m convinced we’re both happier when I’m the better looking one.
The other morning, before work, I told him this. He was waking up – looking handsome and well-rested. In fact, he looks a bit like this when he wakes up:
I look something like this:
Of course, when I said: “Stop it! I’m supposed to be the prettier one!”
He grinned: “Baby, don’t be jealous!”
I’m going to have to step-it-up; I’ve booked a haircut this week.