Monday, April 26, 2010

Perhaps We've Been Married Too Long

A few days ago, I found myself with some extra time. Instead of contemplating the rose garden I never intend to plant, outlining my next novel, or polishing my shoes, I decided to take a shower.

That's right - it was before bedtime for the toddlers, and I managed to steal away into the shower. I even shaved my legs and washed, rinsed, and repeated. When I emerged, smooth-skinned and sweet-smelling, I realized I still had time to spare.

So I plucked my eyebrows. Well, maybe eyebrows - plural - is stretching the truth a bit, since the area above my eyes was beginning to resemble a closely-planted crop of mohair.

After that, what the heck? A little makeup couldn't hurt things, right? And my wet hair could be sculpted into something resembling a "style," if I wiped the dust off my Aussie Sprunch spray and applied it.

Glancing in the mirror, I almost didn't recognize the woman staring back at me, with her lined eyes and mascara, blushed cheeks and glossy color swept across her lips. She was kind of hot - certainly not the same haggard mommy who hides in my reflection in store windows as I slouch around town in yoga pants and sweatshirts with flour smudged across her face and her hair tucked under a denim baseball cap.

No, this woman looked like she had a life! A life, maybe, that wasn't spent in front of a strangely-lit computer screen or, alternately, in the kitchen.

I felt so confident, I pulled on my skinny jeans and a soft, fitted top. I slid on some fashionable flats and spritzed both of my wrists with perfume. I couldn't wait for Mr. Wright to get home! The feeling of accomplishment at taking a shower, plucking my eyebrows, applying makeup and putting on clothing that didn't involve an elastic waistband or a drawstring - all in the same day! - made me mad with confidence and femininity.

Wouldn't he be surprised?

Gosh... I hoped he noticed.

What if he didn't even notice? What if he didn't think there was anything noteworthy of me accomplishing what most women who have "real" jobs do every single morning, and before 8:30 a.m., at that?

A few hours later, I glanced at the clock. It was nearly time for Mr. Wright to arrive home. I checked my lipstick, freshened my fragrance, and met him at the door. I needn't have worried that he wouldn't notice... he did.

Taking in the vision that stood before him, he asked, "You've taken an afternoon lover, haven't you?"

Photo by Dean's Photography. Thank you, Dean... Our photos were perfect!

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