So… today, I visited my local beauty shop where my best friend from high school works as a stylist. She’s done my hair ever since she got out of beauty school and she always nails exactly what look I’m going for. Today was no different. She did EXACTLY what I wanted her to do, and I LOVE it!
Well, after getting my hair cut, I came home, took a shower to get all those itchy trimmings off me, redid my hair, picked up my oldest son from school, came home, cooked dinner, waited for the sitter, went to a city council meeting (I’m an alderman for my city. Or… Alderwoman? Alderperson? Whatever…) then came home.
A few minutes after I walked through the door, my husband got home from work. We talked a little, then my youngest son wanted out of bed so he laid down with my husband while I got ready to sit down at my desk and work (my new contemporary romance titled Barbed Wire Bandages is coming out next month! Keep your ears open! And no, it’s not my first book. It’s my… like… twentieth. Good luck finding all my pen names.) Anywho, as I was leaving the bedroom, my husband said, “did you get a haircut today?” To which I replied “yeah, what do you think?” And he said….
Ready for this?…
He said “You look like a boy.”
I just kinda…. stared at him for a second.
In his defense, when I picked out this hairstyle, it was on a guy. But I don’t care. Hair is hair and I love this cut.
So I proceeded to say-
“Seriously?… I’ve been all over God’s green earth today, talked to kids’ teachers, other parents, city council members, residents of the city, friends, neighbors, family… And not one person looked at my hair and said anything bad about it. Not one. Some even complimented me about how cute it looked. And the first thing you say about it is that I look like a dude?”
And my husband… God love him…. comes back with this.
“Well, babe, I didn’t marry you for the way you looked. I married you for all that other shit inside you.”
That, my friends, is my husband being sweet and romantic.
I recently read a meme that said, “If he doesn’t make you feel like you want to simultaneously kiss him and punch him in the throat, then he’s not the one.”
I can’t tell you how true I think that is…
I wanted to punch him in the throat for saying I looked like a dude… but kiss him for saying he married me “for all that shit inside me” which still isn’t all that romantic, but still…
He’s not exactly Casanova, and he’s definitely not Romeo, but I’ll take him.
Because even though he’s an asshat sometimes, he’s MY asshat.