So lets dish about being married. It’s one of the most lovely, blood boiling things I’ve ever done. Learning each others strengths and weaknesses, and all the while growing in love together is amazing when no one kills the other one. I mean, when marriage doesn’t involve murdering your spouse in their sleep, it’s easy to remain happy.
That’s not true, actually marriage is like a job that you love, and don’t want to quit. The benefits are great , right? You get paid time off ( when your spouse lets you sleep in while he feeds the offspring ). You can’t quit because who would replace you? The answer is no one because, no one is as awesome as you are. Duh. No one can not kill him like you. Also, duh.
You know those ridiculous fights about miscommunication that turns into World War three up in here? Oh, it must just be us.
Allow me to enlighten you as to how I dealt with a minor feud this week. Since I am a mature adult, and I always do the right thing, you will gain great insight into how I handled this situation.
I was mad at my husband of eight years and main guy for almost 12. When you are together for that long you can fight with only your eyes really. You know each other so well, almost too well. You get comfortable and sassy, at least I do. Gutsy. This time I got too sassy.
The argument ended over the phone, which is the worst. The goodbye’s and I love you’s really meant ( why don’t you go stick your head in the nearest dirty toilet and give yourself a swirly because you really SUCK ) .
I hung up the phone and knew what had to be done. There is one thing that makes my husband the most insanely mad. WHEN I USE HIS MAN RAZOR TO SHAVE MY HAIRY LEGS.
It was nap time and all was quiet. No one will know I said. Jesus, cover your eyes I said.
I tiptoed into his bathroom only to find he had purchased a safe with a 23232 digit code to keep his razor hidden from me. I then got even more mad that he was keeping secrets from me. What could the code be?
I love Rachel? No. That’s not enough words translated into numbers.
Could it be – I am hiding this from my wife because she knows this is my most prized possession. The only thing that is truly mine in this home that work so hard to pay for. She even washes my underwear and buys me a new toothbrush when mine gets all gross. She tells me what to wear to church and date nights.
This razor is the only thing I have that screams MANHOOD. I must keep it sacred. My wife is super awesome and hot, but she cannot shave her hairy man legs with this razor. My only lifeline.
That was the code, and so I easily got in,
Suddenly my hands grazed the gold plated razor and soon I was all lathered up with raspberry shaving cream. I was in another world of luxury as the sharp razor curved to my legs with such ease. No wonder he hides this from me. He hates me. This is heaven on earth. Just then my two year old brought me a glass of Merlot. I didn’t ask how she did that, I was just impressed…
I sat there as I shaved every.single.hair. on my legs and wept because at the end I didn’t have any razor burn. No red bumps. I took my time in my sinning. It felt nice.
When he came home from work we apologized to each other, as he noticed my freshly shaved legs. He complimented me on the smoothness, but deep inside I chuckled. For he would never know. I put everything back perfectly into the safe.
I did do one thing as a mark of my victory. I lathered on red lipstick, then kissed the handle of the razor. Sort of like a bad ass bandit. He will surely wonder who it was. A harlot? no. His wife? never.
His wife is a submissive , classy woman. She would never stoop so low as to even dare touch his only thing in this house that is executively his. I realize that line sounded dirty, but it’s true.
Now that I know the code, if you see me in public you’ll notice more leg show on my part. A tiny victory in the world of being a wife. A fantastic wife.
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