I remember making myself a
little promise about 20 years ago. I vowed that I would always be one of those
wives who kept some mystery about herself. You know, that woman who always
looks “done,” even when she’s…not. I
decided that when I got married, I would never let my husband see me unkempt,
or know what processes took place behind the scenes.
Fast forward to today. My
husband walked in to our bedroom one night, and there I was: hair scrunched up
on top of my head, enough products piled on me to pickle myself (hey, I’m at
the stage of life where both wrinkles and blemishes need attention), wearing my
oldest pair of sweatpants and an equally aged t-shirt. Now, obviously my
husband has seen me in good times and bad - I’ve had 3 children with the man
and he was with me for every step of the way. But suddenly, the state of my
appearance seemed so...wrong. I couldn’t
help but feel a little embarrassed. My husband being the good guys that he is,
he didn’t say a word. When he left the room, I felt as if I had let down a
veil. Had I somehow become too comfortable?
Or was this just the product of being married to someone I proudly call my best
friend? I started thinking...how do we keep our husbands from simply being our
co-parents?
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